


Casualties of War

by capsiclewidow



Series: The Tightly Tangled Web [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Captain America: Civil War (Movie), F/M, Past Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-10-13 19:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 60,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20587730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capsiclewidow/pseuds/capsiclewidow
Summary: “Who else signed?”“Tony, Rhodey, Vision.”Steve glanced up at met her gaze. “Clint?”Natasha's jaw tightened as she recalled their tense conversation. “Says he’s retired.”“Wanda?”“TBD.” He just sighed, staring at the floor once again. “I’m off to Vienna...there’s plenty of room on the jet.” When he didn’t respond, she took a few tentative steps towards him. “Just because it’s the path of least resistance doesn’t mean it’s thewrongpath,” she said softly. He lifted his gaze to watch her approach, uncertainty and confusion swirling in his eyes. “Staying together is more important than how we stay together.”“But what are we giving up to do it?” Natasha sighed, but didn’t argue him on it. She didn’t have the energy. “I’m sorry, Nat. I can’t sign it.”“I know.”His gaze burned into her, jaw tightening.“Well then what are you doing here?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to part 3 of the Tightly Tangled Web series! I apologize about the wait, I've had the first chapter of this written for _months_ but had a crisis about it at the last minute, and it took me a while to get it rewritten in a way I was happy with. I hope you're all happy with it too, and thank you so much for reading (especially those of you who have been around since the beginning<3)!
> 
> I do recommend reading parts one (Old Wounds) and two (No Surrender) before this one, because it provides a lot of necessary details into Steve and Nat's relationship up until this point.
> 
> A couple notes:  
1\. This is _not_ a Staron fic, but it is canon compliant, so it does still explore their relationship a bit. Also, I love Sharon and she deserved better anyway...so this is my attempt at doing what the Russos could have.  
2\. I approached this one a bit differently than the others. Some of the alternate scenes make a lot more contextual sense, so I opted to use them instead with minor alterations so they still fit with official canon. Plus this movie is a logistical mess so there are a couple very minor details I had to change just for it to make actual canon sense.  
3\. In addition to deleted/alternate scenes, I also took some parts from the book Avengers Infinity War: The Heroes' Journey. If you haven't yet, I highly recommend reading it...particularly for the A+ Steve/Nat and Steve/Nat/Sam moments. 
> 
> Title comes from the comic Iron Man/Captain America Civil War: Casualties of War (2006). Rating is for mild language and mild implied sexual content.

**UPSTATE NEW YORK | FEBRUARY 2016**

It wasn’t very often that Natasha felt safe.

Sure, she could hold her own against pretty much anyone who could threaten her, and it wasn’t necessarily that she constantly felt like she was in danger. But doing what she did, regardless of for whom she was doing it for, she always had to be aware of her surroundings. She could never let herself be _too _comfortable, just in case. She could relax, but never become lazy.

Therefore, it came as a bit of a surprise when - for the first time she could remember - she woke up feeling truly, completely at ease.

It was quiet save for the low hum of activity on the street below, and there was a light breeze coming in through the cracked window that brought in the fresh air. It was nice, considering the body wrapped around her had to be at least two hundred degrees.

He had his arm draped loosely her, holding her against his chest, his legs tangled in hers. Natasha finally opened her eyes, just enough to take in the sunlight streaming through the curtains gently floating back and forth from the wind. She rolled over and her lips curved upwards at the sight of him.

Steve was still asleep, his mouth parted slightly and hair sticking up all over the place. She brushed a piece of it back from his face and he stirred, letting out a sleepy breath as his eyes fluttered open. The sparkled impossibly bright blue in the soft light filtering in through the window, and when he smiled her heart practically flipped in her chest and sent a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through her.

“Hey,” he mumbled, adjusting to place a soft kiss on her forehead. Natasha, still in a sleepy haze, smiled and leaned into it, but kept her eyes closed. When she didn’t respond he continued down her face, planting kisses on her cheek, nose, and finally her lips. She groaned in protest but he silenced her, sliding his hand down to rest on her hip and leaning into her so her back was flat against the mattress.

“_Steve_,” she whined. He grinned against her lips. “I’m _tired_.”

“Fine,” he breathed, giving up and dropping his head to her shoulder. Natasha huffed out a laugh and he snuggled into her, wrapping his arms possessively against her waist again.

They lay in silence for a while, and Steve’s soft breaths combined with the way he was rubbing the pad of his thumb lightly across her hip was enough to lull her back to sleep.

It wasn’t until she heard a distant crash that she finally let her eyes fly open, suddenly wide awake.

Something was wrong.

It was then that she realized Steve was gone and she was alone. Had she fallen back to sleep? She didn’t think she had, but her mind was racing and she couldn’t remember. That warm, comfortable feeling was gone, and instead her entire body buzzed anxiously.

“Steve?”

He didn’t answer, which only made her more on edge. She shoved the blankets off of her and leapt out of the bed before sprinting across the room and shoving open the door.

She was in her apartment, the one in Manhattan that exactly three people knew about. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here - hadn’t she fallen asleep in the compound last night? - but that wasn’t her concern at the moment, because Steve was sitting on the couch, his back to her, letting out sharp, ragged breaths. When she turned the corner she stopped dead in her tracks and gasped with horror.

There was blood _everywhere_, staining the sofa and the rug and the white t-shirt he’d been wearing. She almost tripped over the coffee table to get to him, dropping down on the couch and dragging his face over to look at her.

“Steve!” He blinked up at her with glazed, unfocused eyes. She dropped her hand to his, pulling it away from the giant, ugly wound. “What the fuck, what happened?”

“_Worthy…_”

Natasha’s blood ran ice cold in her veins as the deep, mechanical voice rang through the air. She whipped her head around, searching for the source, but they were alone.

“_How could you be worthy?_”

“What the hell…?” she breathed.

“_I wasn’t sure you’d wake up. I’d hoped you would, I wanted to show you._”

“Where the hell are you?” she snapped, her voice shaking; but Ultron - wherever he was - didn’t seem deterred.

“_Had to kill him. He was a good guy._ _Wouldn’t have been my first call. But…down in the real world, we’re faced with ugly choices_.”

“Nat-“ Steve coughed thickly and Natasha dropped her gaze back down to his.

“I’m here,” she insisted, sliding her thumb across his cheek. He closed his eyes but found her hand, squeezing it weakly. “Just hold on, _solnyshko_. I’ll get help, okay?”

“_You can’t save him_,” Ultron taunted.

“Oh, go fuck yourself.”

Natasha grabbed a blanket hanging off of the back of the couch before covering the wound on Steve’s stomach. It didn’t do much and blood seeped through the fabric, staining her hands.

“_What doesn’t kill me-”_ Suddenly everything around her exploded and she ducked, shielding Steve’s body with her own, as glass rained down on them from every angle. An army of robots crashed through the windows, surrounding them, their eyes glowing menacingly. “-_only makes me stronger._”

Natasha gasped and shot upright. She sucked in a few shallow breaths, desperate for air, and immediately reached for her nightstand. When her hands curled around the grip of her pistol she clicked off the safety and whipped it up, aiming it at…

Nothing.

It took a few seconds for the realization to register in her brain that she was alone, pointing her gun at the wall of her room. That it was a dream, that Ultron was long gone, and that Steve was very much alive and in his own room and _definitely_ not in her bed.

_Fuck_.

Natasha clicked the safety of her gun back on and lowered it, letting it fall onto the bed next to her before leaning forward to bury her face in her hands. Despite the confirmed lack of a threat her heart still pounded wildly in her chest, and she attempted a few deep breaths to calm herself down.

It had been almost a year since they’d taken down Ultron in Sokovia, and even though Tony and Bruce insisted they’d purged their systems of him, it was like the virus had spread to her mind and stayed there, popping up out of nowhere to haunt her with his human-like mechanical voice and menacing, glowing red eyes.

Just one more thing to add to the list of nightmares.

And then there was Steve, seeing him sleeping peacefully and wrapped protectively around her, contrasted with the lifeless way he’d looked up at her, his eyes filled with terror and his blood everywhere…it reminded her too much of when James had gotten to him on that helicarrier, when she’d watched helplessly as he bled out in her arms. That image was nothing new, but would sneak up on her every once in a while, pulling her right back to that day and forcing her to relive the horror of him almost dying all over again.

With her pulse racing and her anxiety as spiked as it was, Natasha knew she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. So she stored her pistol back on the bottom shelf of her nightstand and swung her legs off of the edge of the bed. She forced herself to get up and dress, then slipped on her tennis shoes before leaving her room and heading downstairs to the common room.

“_Good morning, Agent Romanoff_,” Friday greeted her cheerfully when she entered the kitchen. Natasha grunted irritably in response. “_I already started brewing a pot of coffee for you_.”

“You’re the best, Friday,” she muttered back, yawning as she found a mug in the cabinet. By the time she did the coffee maker beeped and she poured herself a cup, not bothering with her usual cream and mountain of sugar before taking a long gulp.

It was the perfect temperature - Friday had learned over the last several months exactly how Natasha liked her coffee - but still burned all the way down her throat, waking her up more than the caffeine probably would.

“What time is it?”

“_It is currently four thirty-seven,”_ Friday answered. Natasha sighed and took another sip of her coffee. She hadn’t fallen asleep until after midnight, and she was expected in the training facility by nine. It was going to be a _long_ day.

“Is S-“ She paused, catching herself. “-anyone else up?”

“_The facility’s other occupants are all currently still sleeping_.”

That was probably a good thing. As much as she wanted to sneak into Steve’s room and crawl into his bed with him, it definitely wasn’t a good idea. Not when she could still feel his arms around her, feel his lips against hers, could feel the warmth of his skin as he snuggled closer to her.

It had felt so _real_. Too real. As tired and vulnerable as she was at the moment, she couldn’t trust herself not to succumb to the feelings she’d buried deep in her mind, the ones she refused to entertain, not even if she knew it would calm her down.

It always did, whenever she had nightmares. She’d wake up in a panic and end up in his room. He wouldn’t say anything, but his mere presence never failed to sooth her. It was an unspoken agreement between the two of them, that they’d be there to get each other through the nightmares. That there was no pressure to talk about it but the offer was there nonetheless.

But this was different. She’d had nightmares involving him before, but not like _this_. Even if this one had ended up as horrifying as all the others did, the beginning - the soft, hazy, peaceful part - haunted her more than Ultron’s disembodied voice and Steve dying in her arms.

Natasha scoffed at herself and drained the rest of her coffee before leaving the mug in the sink. This was ridiculous. It was just a fucking _dream_.

She desperately needed to hit something.

At least the gym was quiet, with everyone else still asleep. Friday lit up the giant room for her when she entered and she immediately hopped onto a treadmill to warm herself up - at least trying not to fall off of the damn thing would force her to focus on something else - and had already run three miles before the sun started peeking through the trees and sending hazy beams of light through the windows.

When that wasn’t enough to calm her down, she abandoned it and only gave herself a long enough break to gulp down an entire bottle of water from the fully-stocked gym refrigerator and wrap her hands before she started attacking a punching bag.

That helped, especially when she imagined each hit was in the center of one of those damn Ultron bot’s ugly, metal faces. She didn’t hold back, forcing every ounce of power she had into each punch, checking off a mental list every time.  
One for taking her hostage and another for locking her up. One for attacking Helen. One for Pietro and one for Sokovia and one for the mess Wanda had been after he’d destroyed everything she’d ever known. One for each of the bots she’d taken out, one for each hit her team had taken. For almost killing Clint. For manipulating Wanda. A few out of her own pettiness for Bruce, for running away the second he knew the battle was over. One for every time she’d woken up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, panicking, Ultron’s voice ringing in her ears well after she’d realized it wasn’t real.

“Mornin’.”

Natasha paused mid-punch and glanced over to see Steve walking across the gym, his duffel bag slug over his shoulder.

_Of course_.

She should have expected this. She _knew_ he came down here every morning after he woke up. He frowned at her, his eyes still a little sleepy and his hair sticking up in every direction.

“Hey.”

“What the hell are you doing up? It’s not even seven yet.”

Seven? How long had she been down here?

“Couldn’t sleep.”

She turned back to the bag and went at it again to avoid the look he was giving her. If she was up this early at all, especially unable to sleep…he knew what that meant.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked carefully, crossing the room to drop his bag on a bench not far from her punching bag.

“Nope,” she panted between hits. “Just wanna…beat the shit…out of…something.”

“You can beat the shit outta me if you want.” Natasha stopped again and met his gaze. He was gave her her a dopey smile and raised an eyebrow at her. “More of a challenge than that poor punching bag.”

He had a point.

“Fine.” She dropped her hands and started unwrapping the tape, dropping it unceremoniously onto another bench and taking a long swig from her water bottle. “You know you’re at a disadvantage here, right?”

“You know my serum’s stronger than yours, right?” he shot back with a grin. She just rolled her eyes.

“You just woke up. I’ve had coffee. _And_ I’m already warmed up.”

“Guess I’ll just have to work for it.”

“Or I’ll just kick your ass harder.”

“I’ll have to go easy on you then,” he replied. “So you’ll _think_ I’m kicking your ass harder.”

“Such vulgar language, Captain,” she muttered under her breath, receiving a dirty look in return. “It’s adorable that you think you _let_ me win.”

“You can tell me you think I’m cute without making empty threats, Romanoff.” Natasha just gaped at him, earning her a proud smirk. “Yeah. I can play that game too.”

She lunged at him, but he was quick and threw his hands up to block her. She took advantage of his unpreparedness to grab onto his arm, twist herself up onto his shoulders, and use the momentum to knock him down onto the floor. He landed flat on his stomach, her thighs wrapped tightly around his waist as she straddled his back. She ducked her head down so her mouth was right next to his ear.

“You were saying?”

He retaliated quickly, twisting himself out of her hold and springing to his feet. She swung her leg around from where she was already on the floor and it smacked into his knees, causing them to buckle and sending him crashing back down to the mat. He was anticipating it - she knew he was - so instead of trying to pin him down again she twisted away and sprang back onto her feet. She took a few steps backward, eyeing him carefully as he stood, plotting his next move.

He was bluffing. He already knew what his next move would be, but was pausing to make her drop her guard.

She _taught_ him that move.

Natasha grinned, running at him again but ducking out of his way and missing him on purpose, sliding past him and spinning around to attack him from behind. She landed a kick to the center of his back, but before she could jump up and take him down with her legs again he twisted around and pulled her into a choke hold. She pretended to struggle for a second, giving herself an excuse to catch her breath, before elbowing him in the side and yanking herself out of his arms.

They went on like that for several minutes, anticipating each other’s every move and never quite getting close enough to take the other down. It didn’t help that they were both much too stubborn to admit defeat and yield.

Finally, after she’d blocked three of his attempts in a row, she gave him an opening and let him land a punch to her shoulder. She stumbled backwards, letting out a little gasp of surprise and grasping her arm with her other hand. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes going wide.

“_Shit_, I’m sorry!” He closed the space between them, reaching out for her, letting his hand fall gently on her arm. “Are you-“

That’s when she made her move, ramming him hard in the chest with her seemingly injured shoulder. He was taken completely by surprise and stumbled backwards, giving her the opportunity to lunge at him and knock him over. He landed on his back with a _thud_ and she dropped down on top of him, trapping his arms at his sides and holding them tight with her thighs.

“Okay,” he panted. “That’s not fair.”

“When have I _ever_ played fair?” she retorted with a smirk. He rolled his eyes and twisted, flipping her so he could twist her arms above her head, tightening his knees against her sides to keep her still.

“I thought I hurt you.”

“Trust me…if you ever actually hurt me, you’d know.”

He didn’t reply to that, just stared down at her sternly. It was hard not to laugh; he was giving her his _Captain America_ look, the one they all teased him about, and it was taking everything in her not to comment on it now. Instead she tried to lift her legs to flip and pin him, but he didn’t budge. She couldn’t move.

That never happened.

Sure, they were _competitive_, but he always held back when they sparred. Now, however, he was using his full strength to keep her completely still. He must have felt her struggle, because his lips curved up into a devious grin.

“Having trouble?”

“I’m not yielding,” she replied stubbornly, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

“I thought you said I _let_ you win?”

That was going to earn him an ass kicking. She tried to think quickly, figure out how she could trick him into easing up so she could slip out from underneath him, but the way he was looking at her was distracting. So were his eyes, sparkling bright blue in the light filtering in from the giant picture windows lining one side of the gym, burning with a determined, amused intensity that made her heart thump wildly in her chest, having nothing to do with physical exertion. It was just like the beginning of that nightmare, the exact same look that made her brain short circuit and suddenly stop working.

She hadn’t realized how low he was leaning over her until then, and suddenly it was the only thing she could focus on. He _had_ to be doing this on purpose, trying to distract her. Using her own strategy against her. She wanted to be proud of him, but she was too busy overthinking way he shifted just then in a way that brought his nose closer to hers, close enough that it was just _barely_ not brushing against hers.

He was going to kiss her.She could tell by the look in his eyes, the one that had suddenly shifted from smug determination into something resembling the same sudden panic flooding through her. The part that terrified her the most was the fact that it was taking everything in her not to kiss him first.

“Steve,” she breathed, her throat suddenly dry, but he didn’t move. She felt him relax a little, loosening his grip on her wrists and sides, but any thought of taking advantage of it had retreated to the back of her mind. “Steve, there’s cameras.”

It took a second for that to process, but when it did he backed off a little. Suddenly overwhelmed by the proximity - and also by the strong urge to drag him back down - she twisted her arms out of his grasp and shoved him over to roll back on top of him, pinning him down with her legs and resting her forearm against his throat. He didn’t resist, didn’t even _try_ to fight back, and lightly tapped the mat.

“Told you I’d win.”

She’d meant it as a joke, but it fell flat. He just nodded, his eyes still locked with hers, and she felt him swallow thickly under her arm.

“_Captain Rogers, Agent Romanoff…pardon the interruption,” _Friday said suddenly, her voice echoing through the room. “_Brock Rumlow has been spotted in Lagos, Nigeria._”

“Thanks Friday.”

Natasha hopped up quickly, then reached her hand out to Steve. He took it and she helped pull him up before immediately spinning on her heel, desperate to get as much space between them as possible.

He followed her out of the gym and into the elevator that would take them down to the armory, keeping his distance until the doors slid shut in front of them. Natasha saw him glance over at her out of the corner of her eyes and shifted on her feet, angling herself away from him.

“Friday, what do you have on Rumlow?” she asked, mostly to distract herself. Steve averted his gaze down the the floor.

“_He’s been laying low in Lagos for a week, but besides that, not much_,” Friday answered cheerfully.

“We’ll have to do some recon,” Steve commented lowly. Natasha hummed in agreement. “Might have to count Rhodey out of this one, bring Sam and Wanda and hang out for a few days to figure out what he’s up to.”

“Wanda might be able to figure out his plan if we can get close enough,” Natasha added as the doors opened, in the most confident voice she could muster. She didn’t wait for a reply, and instead strode out of the elevator and into the locker room before he could speak.

Once she’d stopped in front of her locker and was alone, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. She could hear Steve on the other side of the room, clamoring around as he packed up his suit and greeting Sam. She pulled her own suit out of its storage cabinet and started shoving it and her gear into a duffel bag, desperate to rid herself of the panic still buzzing around in her brain.

She had no idea what the hell was wrong with her. This had been a slip up, and a stupid one at that. At least Rumlow was good for something, she thought bitterly. Who knows what might have happened if Friday hadn’t interrupted?

She was usually so much _better_ at this. She was a master at compartmentalizing, pushing aside the feelings she still refused to admit she had and not letting them get in the way of anything else. And besides, they were finally getting back to _normal_, like it was before SHIELD fell with the added bonus of being so much closer and trusting each other and _knowing_ each other.

Things were _good_ now. The two of them were good, the team was good. All of the bullshit they’d been through since DC had seemingly faded into nothingness and they’d fallen right back into being partners without a single problem. Bruce was gone and she was over it, she’d slowly been able to push her insecurities back down and feel like herself again. She wasn’t pushing him away anymore, Steve wasn’t quiet and confused every time they interacted. The last four months had been great, and just because she let herself feel something for him again, they’d gone backwards so easily.

And why? Because she’d had some stupid dream about him? Because he’d pushed back when she teased and flirted with him, instead of blushing and taking it? Because he looked at her like _that_ and suddenly all her self control apparently flew out the fucking window?

This was why she left last year in the first place, god _dammit_.

Steve and Sam left and Natasha relished the quiet they left her in. The lack of sleep was definitely going to catch up to her, and she briefly wondered if she’d have time for a nap before they got to Lagos. Steve liked to sit with her on the way to a mission, going over their intel one last time and mapping out strategies for any possible outcome. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep in that close proximity to him, and she definitely didn’t trust her brain not to run with it either. The last thing she needed was to dream about him again and wake up with her head on his shoulder while he scrolled through his tablet.

Wanda made her way into the armory not long after Steve and Sam left, her backpack hanging off of her shoulder, and she offered her a smile.

“Good morning,” she greeted, and Natasha wondered for the millionth time since she’d moved into the compound how someone could be so upbeat this early in the morning.

“Hey.”

Wanda frowned at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Natasha replied, much too quickly. Wanda tilted her head a bit, her eyes narrowing. “I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Okay…” Wanda replied, still not convinced.

“Steve and Sam are waiting for us, let’s go.”

Natasha brushed past her, avoiding the amused look on Wanda’s face as she followed her to the jet. She knew she didn’t purposely read their minds, but something told her she didn’t really need to this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's so much foreshadowing in this chapter lol
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/capsiclewidow) | [tumblr](https://capsiclewidow.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

**LAGOS, NIGERIA | FEBRUARY 2016**

“Alright, let’s go over the plan one more time.”

“We’ve already been over it three times, Rogers.” Steve glanced up to meet Natasha’s eyes across the room, where she was sitting on the edge of the bed picking through her gear. She raised an eyebrow at him. “We’ll be fine_._”

She was probably right. But this was the biggest op they’d run together as a team with just the four of them, and Rumlow had slipped out of their fingers too many times. They’d already spent three days in Lagos tracking him down, gathering intel and planning their next moves. There was no room for mistakes.

“Sam climbs up to the roof get a vantage of the area,” Steve began, and Natasha stuck her tongue out at him before going back to securing her Widow’s Bites under the sleeve of her jacket. He grinned, but ignored her. “Nat cases out the cafe downstairs. Wanda?”

Wanda rolled her eyes, the corner of her mouth curving upwards. “I circle the block a few times, then loop back to the cafe and sit at a different table.”

“Don’t forget your accent,” Natasha reminded her absentmindedly, picking up a pistol and inspecting it closely. Wanda nodded.

“Right. And face the opposite direction,” she answered in an almost-perfect American accent.

“Why?”

“So we cover more ground. You look one way, I look the other.”

“Good.” Natasha glanced up at Wanda and gave her a proud, encouraging smile.

“I’ll stay here until we get sight of him. We need to stay as low profile as possible.”

“We know, Cap.” Sam shook his head from where he was leaning against the wall in his wing suit, grinning at him. “We need to find you a date, dude. You’re too uptight.”

Steve let out a soft groan. “Not you _too_.”

“At least _I_ was trying to set you up for a future.” Natasha stood, pulling her sleeves down over her bracelets. “Wilson just wants to get you laid.”

Sam snorted out a laugh and Wanda rolled her eyes. Natasha brushed past Steve, smirking suggestively at him as she did. Steve swallowed thickly and glanced between Wanda and Sam, but neither of them seemed to notice.

“If you’re all done harassing me,” he muttered irritably, despite the slight upturn of his lips. “Ready to go?”

They all nodded then Sam left, closely followed by Wanda. Natasha hung back, busying herself with securing a pistol in the waistband of her jeans.

“Be careful,” she said lowly, lifting her eyes to meet his.

“And don’t die, I know.” He gave her a soft smile. “You too.”

Natasha shot him a little sideways grin, her eyes lingering on his for a few long seconds, then shoved a pistol in the waistband of her jeans and turned towards the door, sliding on the aviators she’d apparently stolen from him before leaving him alone in the room.

Steve swallowed thickly and shook his head, forcing himself to focus, and leaned down to pull his shield up from where it had been leaning agains the wall. He snapped it onto his back and crossed the room to the windows, peeking out at the street through the curtains.

Natasha made it down to the cafe, breathing out an update once she’d sat down. Wanda joined her not long after.

“Alright, what do you see?” he asked, when Wanda confirmed she was in position.

_“Standard beat cops,”_ she answered lowly. Steve pulled back the curtains a bit further and scanned the street again. _“Small station, quiet street. It’s a good target.”_

“There’s an ATM on the south corner, which means…?”

“_Cameras_.”

“Both cross streets are one way-“

“_So compromised escape routes_.”

“Means our guy doesn’t care about being seen, he isn’t afraid to make a mess on the way out.” His eyes fell on a car down the street and he narrowed them a bit. It looked sturdy…sturdier than necessary in an area like this. “See that Range Rover halfway up the block?”

“_Yeah, the red one? It’s cute_.”

“_It’s also bulletproof_,” Natasha added. “_Which means private security, which means more guns, which means more headaches for somebody. _Probably_ us_.”

“_You guys know I can move things with my mind, right?_” Wanda quipped.

“_Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature._”

“_Anybody ever tell you you’re a little paranoid?_” Sam asked.

“_Not to my face. Why, did you hear something?_” Natasha drawled back. Steve just rolled his eyes, his lips curving up into a small smile.

“Eyes on target, folks,” he said sternly. Natasha snorted but didn’t berate him on his ‘Captain America’ voice like she usually did. His eyes flicked up to the sky, but he saw no threats, so he turned away and crossed to another perpendicular window. “This is the best lead we’ve had on Rumlow in six months, I don’t wanna lose him.”

Sam huffed out a laugh. “_If he sees us comin’, that won’t be a problem. He kinda hates us._”

The response on the tip of Steve’s tongue died when he noticed a garbage truck forcing its way down the street, hitting other cars on either side. People were honking their horns and pedestrians were gesturing at it and giving the drivers dirty looks.

“Sam…you see that garbage truck? Tag it.”

A few seconds later Sam’s AI-powered bird - the one he’d affectionately begun calling Redwing - zoomed down the street towards the truck and out of Steve’s line of sight.

“_Hey, that truck’s loaded for max weight. And the driver’s armed._”

Shit.

“_It’s a battering ram_,” Natasha breathed.

“Go now,” Steve demanded quickly.

“_Why?_” Wanda asked, alarmed.

“He’s not hitting the police.”

Steve turned and sprinted out of the door of the apartment, then barreled down the hall to the stairwell. He leapt down the steps three at a time, hopping over the railings to get to the bottom quicker.

“_They just hit the hospital!_” Sam called in his ear. Steve went out a back exit into the alley and took off for the street.

“_Shit._ Sam, get me over there!” he replied, pulling his shield off of his back. A few seconds later a shadow passed overhead and Sam swooped down, grabbed onto the back straps of his uniform, and yanked him roughly into the air. “Romanoff, what’s your status?” he asked into his comms, once Sam had them concealed above the low-hanging clouds.

“_On our way!_” Natasha called back. “_And we have company. Fantastic._”

“Drop me inside the facility, then you cover Nat and Wanda,” he directed Sam.

“Got it,” he replied, then turned downward towards the hospital. Sure enough, two more large vans as well as several armored, camouflaged trucks had pulled up, and a dozen or so men were swarming the building. Sam let go of his uniform, accelerating to give him more speed, and he dropped quickly towards the ground. He pulled his shield up in front of him and aimed at one of Rumlow’s thugs outside of a destroyed vehicle. The shield slammed into him and against the passengers side window, effectively knocking him down.

His arrival was quickly noticed, and the men on the other side of the truck twisted around and opened fire. Their bullets ricocheted off of the shield, and the second there was a lull, he kicked the truck in front of him into a second guy that had run at him, flung the shield at a third, and took off towards a fourth, who was on top of one of their armored trucks aiming him down with a machine gun. He leapt onto the hood and pulled his feet up to dropkick him right in the stomach, sending him flying off of the truck and into the wall of the building.

Once the immediate threat was gone, Steve sat upright and took in his surroundings.

“Body armor, AR-15s. I make seven hostiles.”

There was a commotion behind him, gunfire and surprised grunts, and then a body flew off of the low hanging roof and landed hard on the top of a truck. “_I make five,_” Sam replied.

Wanda flew into view after the soldier Sam had just kicked off the roof, and Steve noticed another group of them approaching from underneath the overhang of the building. The remaining men opened fire and he let Wanda deal with them in favor of hopping off of the truck and taking on the newcomers.

He took them out easily, tossing his shield at one. It bounced off of him, hit a second and a third, and he used the distraction to take on the one remaining. He shoved the guy backwards into a large concrete planter and he cried out, crumpling to the ground when Steve punched him in the face.

“Rumlow’s on the third floor!” Sam called, once the area was clear. Steve twisted around and jogged over to meet them.

“Wanda!” She glanced around at him. “Just like we practiced.”

“What about the gas?” she asked, lifting her eyes to the windows, where a cloud of greenish grey was pouring out into the air.

“Get it out.”

Steve took a running start, hopping up onto the hood of a truck, and when he leapt off of that into the air he was surrounded by a cloud of red smoke. It lifted him higher and pushed him forward to slam through a window a few stories up, shield first.

He landed with a summersault and hopped back to his feet, swinging his arm up to smack one of the soldiers in the face with his shield. He reached up and pulled down his gas mask, then took the guy’s second of panic to kick him hard in the chest and send him flying backwards. A few more ran into the room when they heard the commotion, so he ducked behind a pillar when they opened fire. He waited for a lull and then swung his shield at the floor, where it bounced off of the tile and smacked into one of the men. He spun out from his cover and ran towards him, kicking him away just in time to catch his shield as it flew by, securing it tightly back to his arm and flinging it up to block the bullets from a second thug’s rifle. He ducked and grabbed the guy’s leg, yanking him down to the ground and then swinging him up to slam him into a pillar.

Wisps of red curled through the room, mixing with the gas filling the air before it was pulled towards the exterior of the room. The windows shattered as it was sucked out of the building. Steve took a deep breath of clean air before taking off down the hall.

He didn’t run into any more of Rumlow’s soldiers, but saw plenty of civilians, all of whom were either injured, dead, knocked unconscious, or cowering in a corner. He discovered broken glass outside of a lab and he rushed into it, readying his shield. There was a glass cabinet against the wall that was left open, the word BIOHAZARD in large, bold letters printed on the side of a container inside of it.

It was empty. _Shit_.

“Rumlow has a biological weapon,” he warned into his comms, turning out of the room and glancing down the hall to determine which way he’d gone.

“_I’m on it_,” Natasha replied.

One of the terrified workers in the lab pointed in the opposite direction he’d come in, and Steve nodded as thanks before taking off down the hall. It was clear of any hostiles, and when he rounded the corner down a second hallway, he saw an emergency exit.

He could hear the sounds of a fight both in his ear and outside. Suddenly Natasha grunted lowly and cried out, followed by several more smacks of flesh against metal.

The fight continued and Rumlow’s voice rang through Natasha’s comms. “_I don’t work like that no more!”_

And then there was an explosion that echoed deafeningly loud, both outside and through Steve’s ear. Dread bubbled in the pit of his stomach.

“Nat, you alright?”

She didn’t answer, but the sound of her rough coughing told him she was at least alive. He pushed his way through the doors, glancing around frantically for her through the cloud of smoke billowing up from a truck on the ground.

He didn’t have time, however, as his eyes quickly fell on Rumlow. He was fully armored, black helmet covering his face with deep white scratches all of the front. And he was aiming a rocket launcher straight at him.

Steve had just enough time to fling his shield up in front of him before a projectile smacked into it, exploding and sending him crashing back through the doors he’d just burst out of. He sprang to his feet, coughing out the thick, black smoke that filled his lungs, and took off down the hall. He heard the roar of the truck’s engine outside and a split second later a second rocket crashed through the window behind him. He pulled his shield up for protection and sprinted away, but when a third one hit, the impact sent him flying out another window.

He landed hard on his back, then rolled down a slanted roof towards the ground. He hit a semi trailer on the way down, the edge of it smacking into his abdomen and pushing all of the air out of his lungs before he landed on his back on the pavement.

Steve twisted around and groaned as he pushed himself up, pain shooting up his spine and through his stomach.

“Sam,” he panted. “He’s in an AFV heading north.”

“_On it!”_

Steve stumbled to his feet, wheezing in a deep breath, lightheaded from the hard landing and the smoke stuck in his lungs. “Natasha, what’s your status?” he breathed.

“_I’m fine,_” she replied, sounding a bit winded but overall okay, and Steve let out a sigh of relief. “_We’re heading after him too_.”

“_He’s at the farmer’s market!_” Sam updated. “_Last one there pays for dinner!_”

“_Chinese sounds good_,” Natasha mused over the sudden roar of an engine. “_Rogers, be sure to order extra egg rolls_.”

Steve just huffed out a laugh and, once he’d gotten himself together, took off in the direction Rumlow had gone.

“_I’ve got four, they’re splitting up._”

Natasha zoomed past Steve on a stolen motorcycle and crashed it to a stop into a couple parked cars, climbing on top of it to leap on top of one of the vehicles, hopping from one hood to another before dropping to the ground.

“_I got the two on the left_,” she replied, ducking out of view as she pursued them.

Steve followed her, climbing over the vehicles but stopping short when he dropped down into a crowd of civilians. There was something on the ground that they were cowering away from, and Steve knelt down next to it. It was a vest with bombs sewn into it, surrounded by a helmet and a few other pieces of heavy armor.

“They ditched their gear,” he breathed, standing back up and glancing around. It’s a shell game now, one of them has the payload-“

He was cut off by a metallic _clank_ and dropped his gaze towards the source. Something had attached itself to his shield. It was a bomb, and it was beeping. _Shit_.

He flung his shield up into the air as high as he could, but it exploded into the roof of one of the market stalls. Before he could duck away from the falling debris and make sure everyone surrounding him was unhurt, something smacked hard into his back, pushing the air out of his lungs and shoving him through one of the stalls.

“There you are, you son of a bitch!” Steve rolled to his knees and glanced up frantically to see Rumlow stomping after him. “I’ve been _waiting for this!”_ he growled. The metal weapon on his arm extended, and before Steve could pull himself up to his feet, he swung at him and hit him hard in the face.

He rolled away from Rumlow’s heavy foot just before it collided with the ground, blocked the knee coming at his face, and dodged a punch as he stood. Rumlow didn’t give up, and they traded blows a few times before he got in a good punch that sent Steve flying into the side of a building. He pushed back up against the wall and dodged Rumlow’s advances, taking swings at him whenever he had an opening but never getting the chance to land a solid one. Finally Rumlow pushed him against the wall and got up close, holding him against it with the reinforced metal armor on his arms.

“This is for dropping a building on my face,” he sneered, and a split second later a knife shot out from his arm.

Steve twisted sideways as he forced his fist forward, and it crashed into the wall where his head had just been. He used it to his advantage, twisting Rumlow’s arm and holding him in place while he elbowed him in the face.

Rumlow fell backwards and Steve ripped off the contraption around his arm in the process, tossing it unceremoniously to the ground. He still had one on the other arm though, so Steve twisted away from a second knife, grabbing onto his arm again when he got the chance and punching Rumlow hard in the side. He faltered but wasn’t knocked down, so Steve spun around and kicked him, sending him flying several feet backwards.

_“Payload secure_,” Natasha panted suddenly. “_Thanks, Sam.”_

_“Don’t thank me!”_

“_I’m...not thanking that thing_.”

Rumlow crashed into a table, but didn’t stand back up right away. Steve tuned out Natasha and Sam’s bickering and approached him as he pushed himself to his knees and pulled off his helmet, then grabbed him roughly from the front of his armor.

Steve paused when he finally got a good look at him. The entire left side of his face was mangled and swollen, the skin burned off and re-healed over the damage. Rumlow noticed his reaction and smirked at him behind heavy pants.

“I think I look pretty good, all things considered.”

“Who’s your buyer?” Steve demanded, shoving him in response.

“You know, he knew you,” Rumlow replied instead. “Your pal, your buddy. Your _Bucky_.”

Steve opened his mouth to snap again, but when Rumlow’s words caught up with him, he froze.

“What did you say?” he breathed. Rumlow grinned.

“He remembered you. I was there. He got all weepy about it, ’til they put his brain back in a blender.” Steve didn’t have a reply to that. He couldn’t form words, his brain suddenly muddled with images of Bucky, hatred in his eyes as he beat him to death, and the contraptions they’d found on their search across Europe and Russia after SHIELD fell. “He wanted you to know something,” Rumlow continued. “He said to me…please tell Rogers. When you gotta go…you gotta go.” The amused, sick smile on his face faded suddenly. “And you’re comin’ with me.”

He glanced down just in time to see Rumlow’s thumb click down on a trigger, and in that split second before the bomb detonated, he remembered they’d all been wearing suicide vests.

Steve stumbled backwards, letting Rumlow go as the heat washed over his hands, and stared dumbfounded at the scene in front of him. The explosion was contained into a little ball of fire surrounding Rumlow. Steve spun around to see Wanda, her face screwed up in concentration, bright balls of red light in her hands. She twisted and forced them upwards, crying out from the effort, and Rumlow went shooting into the air.

And then he exploded.

The blast swept through a tall building and glass shattered, sending shards raining over the street. His ears filled with terrified screams, and the civilians surrounding them scattered. Several floors of the building were on fire, and all he could do was stare at it.

“_Shit_,” he breathed, then brought his hand up to his comm link. “Sam, we…we need…fire and rescue…on the south side of the building.”

“_What happened!?_” Sam asked.

“We gotta get up there,” Steve called to Wanda, then took off against the crowed towards the building. “Rumlow had a bomb,” he answered Sam, glancing back towards Wanda. She wasn’t following him, and instead had fallen down to her knees, her eyes wide with horror and her hand covering her mouth.

“_Are you guys okay?_”

Steve ignored Natasha and spun back around to Wanda. “We need to get everyone out,” he insisted, but she just shook her head, tears filling her eyes as she dropping her shaking hand. She was in shock, her eyes not leaving the burning building in front of them. _“Wanda!_”

When her eyes snapped to his he felt an odd sensation, thick tension filling him, spreading straight through to his bones. He shook it off and dropped down in front of her, grabbing her face gently in his hands and forcing her to look at him.

“I...I didn’t…mean to…” Words failed her and she trailed off.

“I know you didn’t. But that doesn’t matter right now.” She was shaking under him. “People are hurt, _that’s_ our priority now. Okay?”

She swallowed thickly but nodded. Steve stood, extending his hand to help her up. Sam dropped down next to them with Natasha, setting her down before retracting his wings.

“Emergency services are on their way,” he informed them, gazing up at the building, his mouth dropping open.

“We spread out. Wanda, you stay down here and get everyone away from the building, in case it collapses.” Wanda just nodded numbly. “Nat, you’re with me, find anyone who’s in the area. Sam, fly out anyone who needs medical attention so they’re ready when they get here.”

Natasha eyed Steve worriedly but followed him wordlessly when he led the way into the building.

It took several hours before they were dismissed by local authorities. They weren’t allowed to leave the country, however, so Tony begrudgingly put them up in a hotel in order for the city to begin its investigation the next morning.

They’d talked to Tony earlier in the day, and he wasn’t happy. The Nigerian and American governments had been up his ass all day, and he’d had to drop everything to call their lawyers. Steve had tried to explain to him what had happened, but Tony ended up getting irritated and told him to talk to the lawyers before ending the call.

Simply put, this was a complete and total disaster.

Once they were finally free to go back to their hotel after working with the authorities and local news media all day, Wanda disappeared into her suite. Natasha quickly went after her and Sam excused himself to shower and go to bed, locking himself away in his room. Steve was left in the living room alone, collapsed on the couch watching the news.

There were thirty-three casualties so far. Fifty-seven injured, many of which were critical. Several weren’t expected to make it through the night. The city of Lagos was pissed, and the Nigerian government was pissed. Several other surrounding countries were pissed. And this wasn’t like Ultron; though that was also preventable, this wasn’t a situation where they’d been forced to act to save millions of lives. They’d _come_ here, they’d started this. They hadn’t taken enough precautions, hadn’t prepared for every outcome.

But most of all, _Wanda_ hadn’t been ready for this. Even if it had seemed like a simple op at first, she didn’t know how to react in a situation that quickly became as serious as it did. She was powerful, but she still had trouble controlling it. Her one goal had been to save Steve’s life, and she hadn’t been thinking of anything else. The idea hadn’t crossed her mind to aim Rumlow away from the building, and she didn’t have practice holding back a powerful explosive like that.

That didn’t fall on her. It fell on him. He should have seen this coming, should have known this might escalate into something too much for her to handle yet. He knew Rumlow, she didn’t. Steve knew he was reckless. Dramatic. Liked explosives. Would do anything to take Steve and Natasha down even at his own personal risk. A suicide bomb wasn’t outside the realm of possibility when it came to him.

There was a soft knock on the door that yanked Steve out of his head. He jumped but still pushed himself off of the couch to answer it. When he crossed the room and pulled the door open he found himself staring at Natasha, gazing up at him with concern.

“Hey,” she said softly, offering him a small smile that didn’t meet her eyes. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” He opened the door and stepped aside for her to enter the room, closing and locking it behind her. “How’s Wanda?”

“She’ll be okay, I think. I gave her something to help her sleep.” Natasha crossed the room, eyeing the television, then sighed and turned to him. “Steve, _why_ are you watching this…”

“We fucked up,” Steve replied lowly, ignoring her question. He brushed past her and took his place on the couch again, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head to bury it in his palms. She sat next to him, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder. “This is a nightmare.”

“I know.” She let her fingers slide gently up and down his arm. “But you can’t-“

“Don’t tell me not to blame myself,” he cut in harshly, immediately feeling guilty about his tone. She just sighed again. “I could have prevented this.”

“Steve-“

“I had him, Nat.” He dropped his hands and glanced over to her. “He mentioned Bucky, and…I fell for it. He knew it would distract me, and it did. And _Wanda_-“

“Saved your life,” she finished for him. He opened his mouth to protest, but she didn’t let him. “You can _not_ put that on her. She would do anything for you.”

“I know she would. That’s the problem.”

“And you would do anything for _her_. Look at me.” He did, and she slid her hand up to rest on the side of his face, the pad of her thumb sliding back and forth across his cheek. “If she hadn’t contained that bomb, just as many people would have been killed. Probably more, _including_ you.”

“If I’d have stopped Rumlow in the first place-“

“But you _didn’t_.” He didn’t argue, just averted his gaze back down to the floor. She used the hand still cupping the side of his face to force him to look at her again. “You can’t change that. Rumlow’s a dick, and he knew what would get to you. Shit happens.” She paused, the corner of her lips curving up into a soft smile. “You can only control so much. You know who told me that?”

Steve just huffed out a laugh and turned away again. “Some idiot, that’s who.”

“An idiot who carries too much of the world on his shoulders,” she answered softly, dropping her hand to grasp his tightly, her fingers sliding between his.

The news came back from a commercial, and Steve glanced up at it. They were showing footage of the explosion, including one of Wanda forcing the contained bomb up into the air towards the building. Natasha let go of his hand and reached for the remote on the coffee table, turning off the television and throwing them into silence.

“Her citizenship isn’t finalized,” Steve said, finally voicing the thought that had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. “They could deport her.”

“We’ll protect her.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she turned towards him, pulling her feet underneath her, and continued before he had the chance. “You can’t think about that, okay? We don’t know what’s going to happen. Tony has good lawyers, and she wasn’t the one who set off the bomb. There are witnesses. She’ll be okay.”

Steve let out a long breath, unsure that she was right, but gave up for the time being. He glanced over at her, meeting her worried but reassuring gaze.

She was being extra affectionate today, which was odd. It’s not that it was unusual for her - she was just as comfortable around him as she was with Clint - but she’d been hovering around him all day, always there with a brush of her fingertips against his wrist or a comforting hand on his shoulder.

She was trying to make him feel better. He couldn’t tell if it was working or making it worse.

Instead of trying to answer that question, and before he had the sense not to, Steve leaned in and pressed his lips softly against hers. She hesitated at first but gave in and pushed him back into the pillows of the sofa so he could pull her onto his lap.

Steve knew this was an awful, _terrible_ idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Somehow it helped the guilt weighing him down, distracted him, his mind suddenly unable to concentrate on anything but Natasha. The way she was kissing him, her hands on either side of his face. The way she gasped into his mouth when he pulled her closer, the way she melted into him when his fingers slid underneath her t-shirt and up her spine. The smell of her generic shampoo mixed with gunpowder overwhelming his senses as her hair fell over him.

“Steve,” she breathed finally, pulling away just enough to peer down at him with conflicted eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered back.

Truthfully, he knew if he put a stop to this, she would leave…and then he’d be alone. He wasn’t sure he could handle that right now.

Natasha let out a low sigh, but didn’t make a move to pull away. Instead she leaned down and kissed him again.

“I don’t have to leave,” she said softly, as if she’d heard his silent plea. She leaned back to meet his gaze again, brushing his hair back from his face. Then she took a long, deep breath, pulling her bottom lip under her teeth. “It doesn’t have to…_mean_ anything.”

“Last time-“

“Last time was different,” she insisted. He just shook his head, unconvinced. He couldn’t go through that again, couldn’t deal with her pulling away and shutting him out like she had. “It doesn’t have to be like that again. It _can_ mean nothing.”

“You want that?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but paused and closed it again in a rare moment of uncertainty. Then she averted her gaze, focusing on the wall behind him for a few seconds instead.

“I don’t know,” she admitted finally, barely louder than a breath.

Steve didn’t know either. He didn’t know how to do this anymore, to dance around her and pretend he was okay with what they had. He didn’t know how to deal with trauma without her, or how he’d even get through the night if she left right now. He didn’t know how to answer his own question. And he didn’t know what _she _wanted…if this was a test, gauging how emotionally invested he was.

What he _did_ know? He loved her, and even though he _knew_ they were playing with fire…he suddenly didn’t care.

Natasha pulled away from him suddenly and stood up, and Steve’s heart sank until he realized she wasn’t leaving. Instead she held her hand out to him, watching him with wide, uncertain eyes.

“Come on,” she breathed softly. Steve reached out to take her hand and she squeezed it gently, nodding reassuringly. He let her pull him up from the sofa, and leaned down to press his lips softly against hers again when he did.

“Doesn’t mean anything?”

Natasha leaned away a bit, meeting his gaze and offering the tiniest uptick of her lips.

“Doesn’t mean anything,” she agreed. She pulled him down for one last kiss before tugging on his hand, leading the way to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry, they're still idiots ;)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/capsiclewidow) | [tumblr](https://capsiclewidow.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**UPSTATE NEW YORK | MARCH 2016**

The compound was quiet for the next several weeks. They trained as usual during the week, but Wanda mostly kept to herself the rest of the time. Natasha and Steve had been left cleaning up the mess they made in Lagos, and hadn’t had time for moving on to any of the other Hydra loose ends they’d been tracking down for the last several months.

When Tony and Rhodey walked in one morning almost a month after the incident, followed by none other than the Secretary of State, they found Natasha alone, sitting at the bar with a cup of coffee, scrolling through the newest round of news stories involving the king of Wakanda’s statement about Lagos the day before.

“Hey,” she greeted, glancing up at them with a smile, but Rhodes was silent and all Tony did was nod.

“Mr. Secretary, Natasha Romanoff.”

They approached her and she stood, reaching out to shake the man’s hand. The cautionary glares she received from his two secret service agents didn’t go unnoticed.

She wanted to roll her eyes. If she had a dollar for every grown ass man that was afraid of her, she’d be richer than Stark.

“Secretary Ross requested a meeting with us today. Where’s Rogers?”

Natasha gave Ross - who had yet to speak - a calculating stare. Tony had called her that morning to let her know they’d be driving up from the city, but he hadn’t mentioned bringing anyone else besides Rhodes.

She didn’t know much about Secretary Ross, but the things she did weren’t great. Bruce had known him. He was the father of the woman he was with years ago, during the gamma accident that resulted in the Hulk. He never talked about it, but had said enough for her to know that Ross wasn’t Bruce’s biggest fan, and vice versa.

This couldn’t be good.

“Friday?”

“_The Vision is already seeking out Captain Rogers and Ms. Maximoff. I will inform Sergeant Wilson_.”

“Have a seat, Agent Romanoff,” Ross said finally, gesturing towards the conference table across the room. She abandoned her coffee and tablet, still eyeing him curiously while she took a seat. Rhodey took the one next to her.

“This about Lagos, I’m guessing?” she asked him in a low voice, eyes on Tony and Ross across the room. Rhodey glanced over at her briefly.

“You guys aren’t the government’s favorite people right now,” he muttered under her breath.

Well, that had been obvious from the beginning. She opened her mouth to reply, but Steve, Wanda, and Vision entered just then, closely followed by Sam. Secretary Ross introduced himself to Steve, ignoring Vision and Wanda while the two of them sat down across from her.

_They’re going to deport me._ Wanda’s voice filled her head and Natasha glanced over at her.

_They could have deported me a long time ago. _It wasn’t necessarily something she’d admit out loud, but it was the first thing that crossed her mind. Wanda just sighed.

Steve finally joined them, a polite smile across his face as he listened to a story Secretary Ross was telling him. It was about golf.

Of course it was about golf. What else did old white men talk about?

Wanda huffed out a soft, barely audible laugh. Natasha shot her an amused look, and she responded with a guilty half-smile.

_Sorry. That was really loud._

“I was just telling Captain Rogers, five years ago, I had a heart attack,” Ross explained to them, after Steve had taken the empty seat beside Natasha, and Tony had claimed one behind them in the corner of the room. Ross took his position at the end of the table in front of the holographic projection screen and raised his arms like he was swinging an invisible golf club. “I dropped, right in the middle of my backswing.” He offered them a smile that didn’t meet the coldness in his eyes. “Turns out it was the best round of my life, because after thirteen hours of surgery and a triple bypass, I found something forty years in the army never taught me: perspective.

“The world owes the Avengers an un-payable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives…but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some…who would prefer the word vigilantes.”

An uneasy feeling came over Natasha. She didn’t like his phrasing. “And what word would _you _use, Mr. Secretary?” she asked lowly. His eyes fell on hers in a cold stare.

“How about _dangerous_?” She felt Steve tense defensively behind her. “What would you call a group of US based, _enhanced_ individuals, who routinely ignore sovereign borders, and inflict _their_ will, _wherever _they choose, and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

Natasha just glared coldly back at him, her jaw tightening. He turned to face the screen behind him. It came to life, displaying a map that then zoomed in to Manhattan.

“New York.”

Natasha finally averted her gaze to focus on the footage that popped up. One of the giant flying Chitauri vessels, screaming civilians, the Hulk roaring and leaping from building to building. Rhodey glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Washington DC.”

Three helicarriers up in flames, crashing down into the Potomac, water crashing down on streets.

“Sokovia.”

Their battle with Ultron last year, the city flying thousands of feet in the air, whole buildings crashing to the ground. Ross’ gaze went behind them, presumably at Tony. The air around them tensed suddenly, and Natasha glanced over at Wanda. A faint red glow clouded over her eyes.

“Lagos.”

News footage from a few weeks ago, including more screaming citizens and a shot of a young girl lying dead in the street that lasted entirely too long. Natasha averted her gaze, anger bubbling up inside her. He was targeting Wanda and not being subtle about it.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Steve said harshly upon seeing Wanda’s reaction. The screen went blank again.

“For the past four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision.” Ross’ voice had raised exponentially. “That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.”

He turned to his secret service agent, who handed him a booklet that had to be at least an inch and a half thick. He walked right up to Wanda and sat it in front of her before beginning a slow, almost menacing lap around the table.

“The Sokovia Accords,” he explained. Wanda picked up the document, eyeing it carefully before sliding it across the table to Rhodes. “Approved by one hundred and seventeen countries, it states that the Avengers will no longer be a private organization. Instead, you’ll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and _if_ that panel deems it necessary.”

Natasha thought about that, leaning both of her arms against the surface of the conference table. The more she did, the more she realized this was probably a long time coming, especially after Sokovia.

“The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place.” Ross stopped his pacing next to Steve as he spoke. Natasha glanced over at him. “I feel we’ve done that.”

“Tell me, Captain. Do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?” Steve didn’t answer, just raised his eyes and gave the secretary a hard look. “If I misplaced a couple of thirty-megaton nukes, you can bet there’d be consequences.” He turned away, completing his circle around the table. “Compromise. Reassurance. That’s how the world works. Believe me.” He pointed to the document in front of Rhodey. “This _is_ the middle ground.”

“So,” Rhodey began. “There are…contingencies.”

“Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. You can talk it over.”

With that, Ross and his secret service agent began moving towards the door. Natasha let out a long breath.

“And if we come to a decision you don’t like?” Ross turned and met her eyes.

“Then you retire,” he said cooly.

He didn’t wait for her reply and left the room, and Natasha glared after him. He was trying to scare them, bully them into signing themselves over to the government, approaching it like they had a choice, but he was getting what he wanted regardless.

“Was this your idea?”

Steve turned in his chair to look back at Tony, who gave him a hard look in response.

“No, but I wish it was.” Tony stood abruptly and crossed the room. “I have a board meeting in the city on Thursday. I can’t be there.”

“This decision isn’t made, Tony. We need to discuss it first.” Steve stood and followed Tony. Natasha sighed.

“Here we go,” she muttered under her breath. Rhodey huffed in agreement.

Steve turned back towards the table just to reach over and grab the document from it, then held it up towards Tony.

“This thing is long, Tony. You can’t just expect us to sign it without knowing what it says.”

“You’re one of those people who won’t check ‘_I have read the terms and conditions_’ until you’ve actually read them, aren’t you?” Steve let out a frustrated sigh and turned to fall into one of the armchairs in the seating area. He opened the book and started skimming it.

“He has a point, Tony,” Natasha added. She stood, crossing the room to bend over the back of Steve’s chair, skimming a few lines over his shoulder. There was a _lot_ of information. A lot of fine print. “Three days isn’t a lot of time.”

“Yeah? And when have we ever gotten a warning that disaster was going to strike, huh?” Tony rounded on her. Wanda, still silent, got up and joined Steve, getting herself out of the line of fire, Vision following close behind.

“I mean, Ultron was a little predictable,” Sam muttered under his breath.

“Ultron was _far_ from predictable,” Rhodey argued. “That’s the point. We didn’t know it was happening until it was too late.”

“Which is why we need to act fast,” Tony agreed. “Because the next time something like that happens, we need to be ready.”

Steve just sighed. Natasha brushed her hand lightly over his arm and he leaned into it, but didn’t say anything in response. She rounded his chair and took a seat on a different sofa. Now that she could see his face, she could tell he wasn’t reading the words that closely.

“Why was this such a rushed meeting, then?” Sam countered. “Secretary Ross has always been outspoken about his disapproval of the Avengers, ever since the Battle of New York.”

“You know how much he hates Bruce,” Natasha added, glancing over at Tony. He ignored her, instead flopping down onto the sofa across from her. He slouched down in his seat and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes.

“Exactly. It’s just too much of a coincidence if you ask me,” Sam agreed.

“He’s the Secretary of State,” Rhodey reminded him harshly.

“And?”

“And, he got that position for a reason.”

“So did Alexander Pierce,” Sam shot back. Rhodes let out an irritated huff.

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is one more than you have.”

“So let’s say we agree to this thing. How long’s it gonna be before they low-jack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

“A hundred and seventeen countries want to sign this…a _hundred _and_ seventeen_, Sam, and you’re just like, ’Nah, that’s cool?’

“How long are you gonna play both sides?”

“I have an equation,” Vision said suddenly. Sam and Rhodey turned on him.

“Oh, well _this_ will clear it up,” Sam retorted. Vision gave him a calculating stare before continuing.

“In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known…_enhanced_ persons has grown exponentially.” Steve stilled, lifting his gaze to meet Vision’s. “And, during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.”

“Are you saying it’s our fault?” Steve asked, eyeing him carefully.

“I’m saying there might be a causality.” He paused. “Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict…breeds catastrophe. Oversight…oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

“Boom,” Rhodey said once he was finished. Sam shot him a dirty look.

“Tony?” Natasha said finally. He slid his hand down his face and fell away so he could meet her gaze. “You’re being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal.”

“It’s ‘cause he’s already made up his mind,” Steve answered for him.

“Boy, you know me so well,” Tony muttered. He sat up gingerly, stretching his arm to rub the back of his head. “Actually, I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache.” He stood, crossing the room to the kitchen and grabbing a clean mug off of the counter. “That’s what’s going on, Cap. Just…pain. Discomfort.” He paused, peering into the sink, then smacking the bottom of it. “Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal?” he snapped suddenly. “Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

Natasha exchanged a glance with Steve, who seemed equally as surprised by his sudden outbreak. Tony could be a sarcastic asshole when he wanted to be, but he never raised his voice like that. He snatched the filtered water jug off of the counter then turned, propping his phone up in the fruit basket sitting on the edge of the island. He tapped the screen, and the photo of a young man popped out from it.

“Oh, that’s Charles Spencer, by the way,” he continued after a dramatic pause. He averted his gaze from Steve to pour himself a cup of water. “He’s a great kid. Computer engineering degree, three-point-six GPA, had a floor-level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But he wanted to put a few miles on his soul before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service.” He turned to look straight at Steve again. “Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what _I_ would do, he didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend _his _summer building sustainable housing for the poor, guess where? Sokovia.”

He slammed the pills in his hand down on the counter. Natasha felt the air in the room tense again, and heard a barely-audible gasp from Wanda behind her. Steve averted his gaze and stared at the floor.

“He wanted to make a difference I _suppose_, but we won’t know, because we dropped a _building_ on him while we were kickin’ ass.”

Tony paused again, this time to toss the pain pills into his mouth and swallow them down with a gulp of water.

“There’s no decision-making process here,” he continued, rounding the corner of the kitchen island to lean back against it and cross his arms over his chest. “We need to be put in check. And whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundariless? We’re no better than the bad guys.”

Natasha averted her gaze, staring aimlessly past him instead. Wasn’t that the entire reason she left the Red Room? Hydra or not, SHIELD had had order. A system. A chain of command. Democracy. They’d had a board of council members that oversaw everything, one that had perspectives and intel from all over the world. The Red Room had been the total opposite, taking power by any means necessary and using it to control every aspect of their operations. They took what they wanted, to hell with what they left in their wake.

_She_ had taken what she wanted, to hell with what she left in her wake.

It had been nothing but controlled chaos with no oversight. Operating something as large and important as the Avengers, no matter what side they were on, shouldn’t be allowed to run any differently.

As much as she hated to admit it…he had a point.

“Tony, if someone dies on your watch, you don’t _give up_,” Steve said finally.

“Who said we’re giving up?”

“We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame.”

_US based enhanced individuals_. That’s what Ross had called them. He was probably the one up all night dealing with Nigerian and Wakandan officials who were putting it on the United States to deal with it.

“Sorry, Steve, that-“ Rhodey cut in with an irritated sigh. “That is…_dangerously_ arrogant. This is the _United Nations_ we’re talking about. It’s not…World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not Hydra-“

“No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas _change_.”

Steve had a point, too. SHIELD had been so organized, so predictable, that they’d allowed Alexander Pierce to rise the ranks and have complete control over the entire world’s security system. Even Nick Fury had trusted him with his life. Pierce hadn’t been high enough to have the final say, but he had a damn strong influence. In the end that had almost ended with twenty million innocent people losing their lives.

“That’s _good_,” Tony insisterd. He stood up and crossed the room towards them. “That’s why I’m here. When I realized what _my_ weapons were capable in the wrong hands, I shut it down, stopped manufacturing-“

“Tony-“ Steve cut him off harshly, adjusting himself to face him. “You _chose_ to do that! If we sign this, we surrender our right to _choose!_” Tony didn’t have a response to that. Natasha stared blankly at the floor again, mind racing. “What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there’s somewhere we _need_ to go, and they don’t let us?” This time he let his eyes fall on Natasha. She lifted her gaze to meet his. He searched her eyes, begging her to back him up. When she didn’t, he continued. “We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

“If we don’t do this now,” Tony said lowly, “it’s gonna be done _to_ us later. That’s the fact. That won’t be pretty.”

“You’re saying they’ll come from me.” Wanda’s voice shook.

“We would protect you,” Vision assured her. She didn’t look convinced.

“Maybe…Tony’s right.” Tony immediately shot Natasha an incredulous look. She glanced back up at Steve, and could see him comprehending what she’d said, a small crease slowly forming between his brows. “If…we have…one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off-“

“Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss their ass a few years ago?” Sam snapped.

Natasha’s eyes flittered over to him briefly before falling back on Steve. The confusion and hurt swirling in his eyes, the betrayal, broke her heart. He may as well have reached right into her chest and squeezed it as tight as he could.

“I’m just…I’m reading the terrain.” Steve’s gaze dropped to the floor as if he suddenly couldn’t look at her anymore. She let out a long, uneven breath. “We have made some _very_ public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.”

Tony leaned over the back of her sofa. “Focus up, I’m sorry- did I just mishear you or did you just…_agree_ with me?”

Natasha groaned. “Oh, I wanna take it back now.”

“No, no. You can’t retract it,” he replied, wagging a finger at her. Steve’s phone buzzed in his pocket, so he ignored them in favor of pulling it out and glancing down at it. “_Thank_ you. Unprecedented. Okay, case closed. I win.”

"I have to go."

Steve stood abruptly, dropping the Accords booklet onto the coffee table with a loud _thud_ and practically sprinting out of the room. Natasha sat up, eyes followed him around the corner, before he disappeared down the stairs.

"Seriously, Rogers?" Rhodes called after him, to no response. Tony let out an irritated sigh behind her and she glanced around at him.

"Well, that was conclusive," he said, rolling his eyes and turning towards the kitchen. He pulled his phone off the counter, tapped the screen a few times, and raised it to his ear. "I'm calling Ross. Someone needs to be in Vienna on Thursday. Romanoff, can you- where are you going?"

Natasha had stood and was halfway to the stairs before he noticed. “Fine, just…hang on,” she replied, waving him off nonchalantly and following Steve.

He hadn’t gone far. She found him on the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the railing, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. She descended the steps with soft footsteps, then came to a halt on the last one.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, lowering her voice so the others couldn’t hear them from upstairs. He didn’t answer, just took a long, shaky breath, so she reached out a hand and let it rest gently against his forearm. “Steve?”

His hand slid down his face and dropped to grip her wrist tightly. When he finally glanced up and met her worried gaze, his eyes were red and glassy with unshed tears.

"Peggy," he choked out finally.

It took her a second before it finally clicked. She tightened her grip on his arm.

"_Shit,” _she breathed.

"She was ninety-five. I shouldn't be..." He paused, dropping his gaze to the floor.“The last time I visited her, I didn't think…”

He trailed off again, squeezing his eyes shut as he took slow, shaky breaths to hold back the sob she was sure he was trying to breath through. She leaned into him, resting her forehead against his shoulder and he shifted his weight, dropping one of his arms to wrap around her, holding her so tightly that the tremor in his body transferred through to her. They stood like that in silence for several moments, his breathing getting faster and slower in intervals, while she slid her fingertips back and forth across his forearm.

Suddenly he moved, pulling away and maneuvering around her to hop up the steps two at a time. It surprised her, and he was already halfway up the stairs before she realized what had happened. She followed him, reaching the top of the stairs just in time to see him round the corner and head up towards his room.

“I take it the pouting means he’s not signing,” Tony said when he saw her, rolling his eyes.

“Cut it out, Tony” she snapped. Sam approached her and she shifted her gaze to meet his concerned one.

“What happened?” he asked. She waited until she heard the click of Steve’s door upstairs before answering.

“Peggy passed away this morning,” she explained lowly. Sam let out a long breath.

“Shit.”

Natasha glanced past Sam and caught Tony’s eye. It was then, after seeing the look on his face, that she remembered he’d grown up knowing Peggy. She took a long breath, glancing over at Wanda before speaking again.

“I’ll go to Vienna.”

Wanda dropped her gaze away from Natasha’s. A pang of guilt squeezed in her chest, but she knew Steve wasn’t going to agree to this, and Tony had already said he couldn’t go. She was the only other official member of the Avengers organization left to represent them at the signing. She glanced back over at Tony, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“I’ll…let him know.” Tony turned away, going back out towards the exit and stepping into the hall without another word.

“I’ll be in my room.”

Wanda stood, her eyes clouded over again with hazy redness. She brushed past Natasha and retreated upstairs. Sam followed her, muttering indignantly, “And I guess I need to pack.”

Natasha wanted to follow them and make sure Steve was okay, but Rhodey was watching her expectantly, so she decided to give him a little space.

“This is _not_ going to go well,” she told him pointedly. He just gave her an annoyed look. “Are you really surprised? They had to know Steve wouldn’t agree to this.”

“Sam was right about one thing, you really are trying to play both sides.”

“I’m not picking a _side_,” she shot back at him. “He raises important questions that need to be addressed. Sooner rather than later.”

“Well you better get them written down quickly.”

With that, Rhodey stood and followed Tony out into the hallway. She was left with only Vision, who hadn’t moved. He lifted his gaze to meet hers, the mechanical discomfort reflected in them so unnervingly human. He sighed.

“_Catastrophe_.”

“When are you leaving?”

When Steve didn’t answer, Natasha twisted her head to rest on his shoulder so she could look up at him.

“Tomorrow morning,” he said finally. He stared up at the ceiling. “You’re going to sign it, aren’t you?” he asked lowly.

An ache shot through her chest. It was the thing they’d left unspoken all day, ignored in favor of focusing on other issues. The lingering dread bubbled up in the pit of her stomach that had been haunting her since that morning.

Her silence was answer enough, but still, she tucked her head back under his chin and breathed, “Yeah.”

“Have you even thought about-“

“Yes, I have.” She felt him tense beneath her, but he didn’t reply. “I like my job, and I want to keep it. I don’t have anything else.”

“That’s not true.”

Suddenly overwhelmed, Natasha pulled herself away from him and sat up. She glanced down at the floor and her eyes fell on the t-shirt he’d worn that day. She grabbed it and yanked it on.

“What’s your plan then?” she asked finally. She turned around to look at him again, tucking her leg underneath her. He sat up, but didn’t have an answer for her. “Do you really think you can sit back and let everyone else save the world?”

“No, and I don’t plan on it.”

“If you don’t sign, you’re _done_.” He just stared back at her defiantly. “You won’t be an Avenger. You won’t be Captain America. Not anymore.”

“And I’m willing to give up those titles if it means-”

“You don’t _get it_, Steve,” she said with a frustrated sigh. “They can arrest you now. It doesn’t matter whether you’re doing the right thing or not. Give up the titles all you want, but you’re giving up more by _not_ signing.”

“And what about you?” he asked harshly. “You spent you entire life working for people with agendas. They know who you are. You really trust them not to take advantage of that?”

“Well at least this time they’re giving me a choice,” she snapped, before she could stop herself.

SHIELD was different, the Red Room was different. She was forced into both of those situations. And besides, he was right…the government _did_ know who she was. Without the protection of Stark Industries and their arsenal of lawyers and PR, she’d have been thrown in the Raft for her crimes years ago. Leaving the Avengers meant so much more to her than it did to him.

“Are they? They know you’ll sign, they know Tony will. But who else will be left?” She didn’t answer, so he continued despite the harsh look she was giving him. “Sam’s not signing. Wanda won’t. Thor and Bruce definitely won’t. And you know damn well Clint won’t.” She averted her gaze at the mention of his name, staring down at the comforter instead. He was right, but it didn’t help the ache rising in her chest. “I don’t want to argue with you about this right now.”

“I should go anyway.”

She turned away to stand up, but before she could, he reached out and wrapped his hand around hers.

“Stay.”

That was against the rules, the unspoken ones they set weeks ago. It was a line they couldn’t cross, _she_ couldn’t cross, because if she did, she wouldn’t be able to cross back.

Natasha let her gaze fall on his hand before meeting his eyes. They stared back at her, wide and unblinking. Knowing just as she did that this was it, and they’d probably never get this back again.

Begging her not to leave him.

“Please.”

And before she could run, before she could tell herself not to, she was crawling back across the mattress, climbing under the blanket, and letting him wrap his arms tightly around her. She settled herself next to him, her back against his chest. He nuzzled his nose into her hair, and they stayed like that for several long minutes, his soft breaths tickling the back of her neck.

“It doesn’t mean nothing, does it?”

Natasha couldn’t answer. She couldn’t bring herself to lie to him.

Anyone else, it would be easy…but not Steve. So instead she remained silent, letting her hand slide into his. He tightened his fingers around it, squeezing it tightly.

“It can’t,” she said finally.

His grip on her hand loosened, but he didn’t let go. Guilt flooded through her, just imagining the look on his face that she couldn’t see.

This was her fault…for leading him on, for letting this continue even though they both knew it was more than what it was. It had been from the beginning. Steve led with his heart, and it had been her job to approach this with her head. Her responsibility to keep both of their emotions in check.

She turned to lie on her back and peered up at him. He watched her carefully, eyes full of a million things she knew he would never say. Unable to stop herself, she lifted her arm to slide her hand up behind his neck and pull him towards her, pressing her lips softly against his.

“You know how much you mean to me,” she said lowly, once she’d pulled away just far enough to look him in the eye again. She paused, heart thumping in her chest. Everything in her was screaming, telling her to stop talking. Put the wall back up. Shut up and go back to her room, don’t allow herself to be vulnerable. She didn’t listen. “But this…it can’t work. Especially not now.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I never have been good at the whole timing thing.”

“Me either.” Steve bent down and placed another soft kiss on her lips before dropping his head to her shoulder, burying his face against her neck. He stretched his arm across her waist and pulled her tight against him again. “Told you you should’ve called that n-“

He cut her off with a groan that vibrated against her skin. “Not again.” She huffed out a laugh, her fingertips dancing across the arm splayed across her stomach.

“I’m _just_ saying.”

“Nat, _stop_.”

They were silent after that. It didn’t take him long to fall asleep - it never did - but Natasha laid awake for several more hours, alternating between staring at the ceiling and at Steve. She thought bitterly how peaceful he looked when he slept, how nice it was to have him snuggled up to her like he was. How she could have had this more often, if she wasn’t so insistent on leaving him every single night, or waited this long to let herself be selfish in the first place.

She always slept so well whenever they shared a bed like this, but tonight she couldn’t quiet her brain long enough to allow herself to drift off. Once she finally did she couldn’t remember it, and woke up to sun streaming through the windows.

She rolled over, expecting to see Steve’s sleeping form next to her, but found the bed cold and empty. She suddenly felt cold and uncomfortably alone in his huge bed, and was hit by the realization that this was probably what he felt like every morning that he woke up with her gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this a good time for me to mention how much i hate this movie 
> 
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	4. Chapter 4

**LONDON, ENGLAND**

Training had been halted indefinitely due to the Accords, especially with Steve and Sam already on their way to London for the funeral, Tony and Rhodey already back in the city, and Natasha gearing up to leave for Vienna at the end of the week. Wanda isolated herself, only speaking to Friday or Vision.

She avoided Natasha, who had to admit she was proud of the way she’d managed to sneak around her undetected, but it still sent a guilty ache through her chest whenever she saw her. Her eyes would cloud over red and she’d exit the room every time Natasha walked in. She knew she was hurt - the betrayed look she’d given her when she’d told Tony she’d go to Vienna still haunted her - but she’d gravitated towards Natasha ever since she’d left Sokovia, and now she hadn’t said a word to her in almost a full day. The one exception was to say, “I don’t know yet” when she’d asked her if she had any more thoughts about signing.

The trip to Vienna was becoming more and more appealing. Tony and Ross were on her ass about getting Steve to sign, and Steve himself hadn’t texted her back at all. The only thing she’d received was a quick text from Sam letting her know they’d made it to London.

When she’d called Clint to let him know what was going on and that Ross wanted him to sign too, he’d just laughed at her, said he was retired, and that he wasn’t going to miss taking the kids on vacation to get involved in Steve and Tony’s pissing match.

He hadn’t been happy when she said she was going, and told her the exact same thing Steve had in a much harsher way.

The meeting with the UN would only take up part of the afternoon, and she was honestly debating disappearing for a couple weeks. Maybe stay in Austria for a while and wait for this to blow over. Take a well-earned vacation.

That was a nice idea, she thought bitterly, as she stared at the quinjet’s console in front of her. With Steve gone, she was left to lead the team. Tony was next in line, and that just screamed disaster.

Natasha’s phone suddenly lit up with a text. It was from Sam.

_You should be here._

An ache shot through her chest, the guilt creeping up on her. The funeral was later that morning, and she’d been trying not to think about it.

She didn’t answer, and another text popped up.

_He’s a mess. He needs you._

Shit.

“Friday, how long would it take to get from London to Vienna?” she asked, before she could stop herself.

“_Agent Peggy Carter’s service is to be held in approximately two hours. If you rerouted your flight, you would make it London before it ends with plenty of time to attend and fly to Vienna before the UN meeting_,” Friday explained happily. “_Does that answer your question?_”’

Natasha wanted to laugh. “You’re a lot more perceptive than Jarvis.”

“_Jarvis and I are based off of the same base code, but our individuality is a learned trait_.”

“I see.”

“_He was just more polite._”

This time she did let out a chuckle. It was short-lived, however, when she realized she had to make a decision.

She thought it over, just to say that she did, and then redirected the jet to London.

The service was already almost over by the time she’d stored the jet in Tony’s private hangar at the airport and taken a cab across the city to the church. She didn’t dare try to sneak in the back - there were too many people in attendance for that - so she waited in the lobby for a short time until the doors to the chapel opened and people started pouring out. She recognized a few of them, some older, higher-ups from SHIELD that she’d met once or twice before it fell. At one point she saw Sharon Carter, who thankfully hadn’t noticed her.

Sam did, however, and approached the dark corner she’d been waiting in.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come.” She couldn’t respond to that, at least not with anything she was comfortable saying to anyone, let alone Sam. He took that as a queue to continue. “He hasn’t slept in two days. And he’s not that happy with you.”

“I know,” she sighed. Sam didn’t have the hurt expression on his face that she’d seen in Wanda the last few days, but she knew he’d always side with Steve, no matter what the issue was. “I just…wish he could understand why.”

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but he’s trying.” She didn’t have an answer to that either. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but I haven’t seen him like this since after all that shit with SHIELD went down. He doesn’t know what to do and I think it’s scaring the hell out of him, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it.” Natasha averted her gaze and stared down at their shoes instead. “I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty.”

“I know you’re not.” She lifted her gaze up to meet his again, offering him a soft, almost-genuine smile. “Where is he?”

“Still inside,” Sam said, nodding his head towards the doors of the chapel. “Said he needed a minute.”

“Thanks.”

She stepped around him and began making her way across the now almost empty lobby. When she entered the chapel and closed the stained glass door carefully behind her, she found it empty with the exception of Steve, standing alone at the end of the aisle, his back to her and hands shoved in his pockets. Her heart leapt in her chest and it hit her how much she regretted not being here for him the last couple days, and how much she’d been trying not to miss him since waking up alone in his bed the morning he left.

He hadn’t seemed to notice her until she was halfway to him. When she was close enough that he registered her approaching he turned, his brows furrowing when he realized who it was. He maintained eye contact with her for only a few seconds before turning away again, staring at the floor and leaning up against the end of one of the pews.

“When I came out of the ice, I thought everyone I had known was gone,” he said suddenly, staring blankly at the memorial at the front of the room. Natasha glanced over at him, not missing the redness around his eyes and the bags beneath them. “When I found out she was alive…I was just lucky to have her.”

“She had you back too.” He just sighed at that, staring at the floor again. She turned towards him fully now, taking a long breath. “After…everything that happened with SHIELD, when I left-“ He glanced back up at her curiously, and she crossed her arms defensively over her chest as a reflex. He’d never asked her about it, and she’d never brought it up, for more reasons than one. “-I went back to Russia. Tried to find my parents.” She paused, averting her gaze. “I don’t remember them. It took me weeks to even find their names, and all it led me to was two little gravestones by a chainlink fence.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. She just shrugged, her eyes meeting his again and offering him a half-hearted smile.

“I left some flowers. Didn’t seem like much at the time, but it’s all I could do. We have what we have when we have it.” Her heart thumped hard in her chest. This went beyond her parents and her messy past, beyond Peggy Carter and what she’d meant to Steve…beyond these goddamn Accords. The way he was looking at her told her he knew it too. “All we can do is know that we did what we could when we had the chance.”

He thought about that for a few long seconds. She wanted desperately to cross the space between them, and just hold him until the sad, dejected look in his eyes was gone.

But she didn’t; instead she watched him carefully until he finally let out a long breath and said, “Who else signed?”

“Tony, Rhodey…Vision.”

He glanced up at met her gaze. “Clint?”

Her jaw tightened as she recalled their tense conversation. _More guilt_. “Says he’s retired.”

“Wanda?”

“TBD.” He just sighed, staring at the floor once again. “I’m off to Vienna...there’s plenty of room on the jet.” When he didn’t respond, she took a few tentative steps towards him. “Just because it’s the path of least resistance doesn’t mean it’s the _wrong_ path,” she said softly. He lifted his gaze to watch her approach through long eyelashes, uncertainty and confusion swirling in his eyes. “Staying together is more important than how we stay together.”

“But what are we giving up to do it?” She sighed, but didn’t argue him on it. She didn’t have the energy. “I’m sorry, Nat. I can’t sign it.”

“I know.”

His gaze burned into her, jaw tightening.

“Well then what are you doing here?”

Her heart sank. There was no way he only thought she was here to continue their argument from the other night - he knew her better than that - but the hesitancy and betrayal in his voice broke her heart.

“I…didn’t want you to be alone.”

He stared at her fully now, everything he couldn’t say out loud pouring out of his eyes. She’d said that to him once before, in much different circumstances that oddly still felt way too familiar. Back then she’d had the same nagging feeling, the same sense of dread growing in the back of her mind. Her entire life, the one she’d been building since the day she decided to finally leave the Red Room for good, had just come crashing down around her. Two years later and she’d finally rebuilt it - _again_ \- and that feeling was back, the one that made her feel so uncomfortably out of place, so alone in a world she’d tried and failed to control.

And he wasn’t alone, not at all. He had Sam, and always would. The man would go to hell and back (and had already) for Steve, and Steve would do the same for Sam. He had Wanda, was so fiercely protective of her like an older brother would be, who had clung to him like family since losing her brother and coming to live in the compound with them. He had Clint, who respected Steve a lot more than he’d admit, and had considered him a friend and ally since the Battle of New York when he’d looked past all the shit Loki had done to his mind and trusted him without question.

But she wasn’t naive enough not to realize she was different. Sam and Wanda, their team, the Avengers…they were his family, but their relationship - whatever the hell it was - was something different entirely. They’d been through so much together. They trusted each other, leaned on each other. Relied on each other more than either of them would admit. He’d already had that, in his past life, and it was ripped away from him when he lost James. As much as she thought he deserved someone much better than her to fill that gap, she couldn’t help feeling that by signing these accords, she was betraying him in many more ways than one.

Suddenly she couldn’t stand the distance between them anymore. She crossed the rest of the aisle and reached for him, resting a hesitant hand on his shoulder.

“Come here.”

He did, and when she slid her arms around his neck and pulled him in, he finally pulled his hands out of his pockets and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. He practically collapsed into her, burying his face in her hair and letting out a shuddered breath. Natasha closed her eyes, adjusting herself in his arms to rest her forehead against his shoulder, and he tightened his grip on her.

They stayed like that for a few long minutes, Steve wetting the collar of her coat with silent tears while she rubbed his back. It seemed to calm him down, enough for him to finally take a deep breath and pull away just enough to look her in the eye. She slid her hands down to rest on either side of his face, gently running her thumb across his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked softly.

“Always am.” The forced half-smile on his face when he said it did nothing to convince her. She wanted so badly to stay here with him. In fact, maybe she could start her impromptu vacation early. The two of them could spend some time in Europe on their own, to hell with Ross and Stark and the Accords. Escape from their life for a few days, or weeks for all she cared. At this point he probably wouldn’t be too hard to convince.

Instead, she finally dropped her hands away from him. She needed to be sensible. They couldn’t blow off the United Nations, and Tony would kill her if she didn’t show up. She had to go.

Steve’s hands fell away from her waist but she closed the space between them again, lifting herself up on her toes to kiss him softly on the cheek. Then she forced herself to turn away.

She didn’t get far, only about two steps before she heard him move behind her. His hand was suddenly curled around her arm, and the second she glanced back at him he was pulling her towards him and crushing his lips against hers.

Her first reaction was to push him away - they were in public, anyone could walk in, and Sam was right on the other side of the chapel doors - but the thoughts were short-lived. He let the hand around her arm slide up to tangle in her hair, angling her upwards for easier access.

“Last time you did that,” he breathed finally, lips still moving against hers, “I regretted letting you go for months. And now-“

She cut him off by pressing her lips against his again. She couldn’t hear the end of that sentence, couldn’t let herself admit that everything was about to change…_again_. So she grabbed onto his tie and held him there, kissing him like she’d never get a chance to again.

She couldn’t give herself that chance. This had to be it.

“Be careful,” she said, once she’d finally pulled away. She raised her hand to rest on the side of his face again.

“And don’t do anything stupid, I know.” The corners of her mouth ticked up into a small, sideways grin, the first real smile she’d given anyone in two days.

“That too.” She gave him one last soft peck on the lips before adding, “I’ll call you later.”

He just nodded and, although he looked reluctant to, let her pull away from him. She turned and walked towards the exit, telling herself the entire way not to look back.

If she did, she may not make it to Vienna at all.

“Excuse me, Ms. Romanoff?”

Natasha, who had been staring blankly out of the giant picture windows on the other side of the room fiddling with the necklace fastened around her neck - the one Steve had given her for her birthday a few months ago - blinked and turned her attention to the young woman standing in front of her. She practically flinched when she did, but still kept a fake smile plastered on her face. It pissed Natasha off.

“Yes?”

“I just…need your signature?”

The woman handed her a clipboard and an expensive-looking pen. She stared down at it for a few long seconds, her eyes drawn to the highlighted portion at the bottom.

Now or never.

She picked up the pen and signed her name - her real, legal name, which felt uncomfortably foreign to her - and handed back the clipboard, not allowing herself to second-guess her decision. It was too late for that now. The girl thanked her and hurried off.

“I suppose neither of us is used to the spotlight.”

She spun around at the soft voice behind her. She recognized the man it was coming from, and it was none other than Prince T’Challa of Wakanda.

“Well, it’s not always so…flattering.”

He narrowed his eyes at her a bit, trying to read her, but still offered her a polite smile. “You seem to be doing alright so far. Considering…your last trip to Capitol Hill.” Natasha tensed, but the man seemed genuine. “I wouldn’t think you’d be particularly comfortable in this company.”

“Well, I’m not,” she admitted, averting her gaze for a half second before offering him a small smile.

She didn’t know a lot about the Wakandan royal family - the country stayed mostly to themselves - but she’d done her research. T’Challa seemed to be well-respected by his people, and it was glaringly obvious why. She could tell already, just from this brief interaction, that he was decent.

Something about him reminded her of Steve.

“That alone makes me glad you are here, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Why, you don’t approve of all this?”

“The Accords? Yes. The politics?” He half shrugged, motioning at the crowd of people behind them. “Not really. Two people in a room can get more done than a hundred.”

“Unless you need to move a piano.” Natasha glanced around to see the king of Wakanda, T’Chaka. T’Challa’s father. He smiled warmly at his son and they greeted each other in Xhosa before he turned to her. “Ms. Romanoff.”

She straightened and gave him a polite nod. “King T’Chaka…please, allow me to apologize for what happened in Nigeria.”

“Thank you,” he replied sincerely. “Thank you for agreeing to all of this. I’m sad to hear that Captain Rogers will not be joining us today.”

She tightened her jaw, the smile fading from her lips. “Yes, so am I.”

The King opened his mouth to respond, but a voice suddenly floated through the room over the intercom, warning them that the assembly as about to begin. She shook both of their hands and excused herself to find her seat.

When she did, she leaned her elbow on the surface of the desk and absentmindedly brought her hand up to her neck again. She caught the green gem of her necklace between her thumb and forefinger. It was cold against her skin, and something about the smoothness of it calmed her nerves a bit. She felt incredibly out of place here, and although she was a master at disguising her feelings and had practiced her speech on the jet this morning, she had to admit to herself that she was nervous.

She didn’t do these types of things, _ever_. Steve usually led them. He knew how much she hated it, how vulnerable she felt under the gaze of so many eyes, though she’d never told him or anyone else that. These people knew exactly who she was thanks to her SHIELD file still floating around on the internet. They’d probably been expecting Captain America or Iron Man to be up on that podium today, or at the very least, be sitting in the stands with her.

It took several minutes, but the attendees all finally found their seats and the meeting began. King T’Chakka was to open, and he stood at the podium with his son watching from the side while he patiently waited for the room to silence.

“When stolen Wakandan vibranium was used to make a terrible weapon, we in Wakanda were forced to question our legacy.” Natasha felt a few eyes glance in her direction, but she ignored them, folding her hands together uncomfortably and resting them atop the desk, keeping her focus on the king. “Those men and women killed in Nigeria were part of a good-will mission from a country too long in the shadows. We will not, however, let misfortune drive us back. We will fight to improve the world we wish to join. I am grateful to the Avengers for supporting this initiative. Wakanda is proud to extend its hand in peace-“

Movement caught the corner of her eyes and they flitted over to T’Challa in the background. He had turned towards the window, and a split second later, he spun around on his heel.

“Everybody _get down_!” he shouted, suddenly sprinting across the room towards his father. Natasha sprang into action, hopping up from her seat and grabbing the shoulder of the woman next to her. She shoved her down and under the desk, and at the same time, the entire room exploded.

“Here’s to an honorable discharge.”

Sam raised his glass and Steve sighed, tapping his own against Sam’s reluctantly. He took a long drink of his whiskey, staring down at the amber liquid swirling around in the glass for a few long seconds before glancing up at Sam.

“You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Nah, I’m not worried.” He raised en eyebrow and gave him a half-hearted grin. “I make a great civilian.” Steve just sighed, and Sam tilted his head sideways. “You could too, you know.”

Steve followed his gaze, and his eyes fell on Sharon.

“_Sam_-“ Steve warned, but he didn’t have the heart to argue. He may not have explicitly told Sam that there was anything going on between him and Natasha, but the guy wasn’t an idiot.

“Look, I’m just saying…you have options. Opportunities. You can have a life outside of what they made for you.” Steve just sighed and took another gulp of whiskey. It burned all the way down his throat. “She’s nice, and beautiful, and a total badass. I mean, that’s your type, isn’t it?”

Steve glared at him, earning himself a smirk in response.

“I can’t think about that right now,” he said finally.

He suddenly heard Natasha’s voice from the other night, telling him he should have called Sharon, and recalled the bitterness in her voice when she’d been about to mention her name. He’d never actually admitted to her that they’d seen each other after SHIELD fell. He mostly just didn’t think it was relevant - after all, Sharon wasn’t the one he was in love with - but he also didn’t want her to think he’d been interested in her in the first place. It had taken him a while to recognize Natasha’s brand of insecurity and jealousy, as well as she tried to hide it and pretend it wasn’t there, and he hadn’t needed a reason after she came back for her to push him farther away.

He let his eyes fall on Sharon across the room again. Maybe Sam was right. Natasha had been clear from the beginning that they couldn’t be together, but he’d let himself get himself in way too deep anyway. Maybe he just needed to accept that and move on, especially since there was a good chance he wasn’t going to be welcome at the Avengers facility now that he was being forced into retirement.

If anything, he would need a job; between what Tony paid him, what he still had from SHIELD, and his savings filled with the Army’s backpay, he wasn’t the least bit concerned about making a living. But doing nothing sounded _awful_, and working for the CIA would at least give him an opportunity to legally continue helping people.

Sharon, who had been in the middle of a conversation with someone, suddenly lifted her gaze and her eyes fell on him. She smiled, then excused herself and started making her way across the room. Steve panicked, straightening himself and setting his drink down on the table. He’d been avoiding her all afternoon, and now, with no way to hide from her, he suddenly felt very trapped.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” Sam said, and before Steve could protest, he slipped away and left him alone.

“Hey,” Sharon greeted. She had a smile plastered on her face that looked a little too forced. She pulled him into a hug. “I’m glad you were here.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it.” She pulled away and put a respectable distance between them again. Steve picked up the glass he’d set on the table and drained the rest of it.

“Follow me.” Sharon turned on her heels and headed towards the bar. Steve did as she said and when he caught up to her, she was already handing him a glass of wine, also holding one of her own. She led them to a table and sat down, taking a few long sips of her wine, avoiding his gaze.

“So,” he said finally, fiddling with the stem of his untouched glass. “Peggy was your aunt.”

Sharon met his gaze with a wince. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

“It’s okay.” He offered her a small smile. “I get it.” He paused, desperately trying to think of something else to say. “So you’re…her son’s-?”

“My grandfather was her brother.”

“I never got to meet him.” Peggy had told him stories about her brother, how his death is what prompted her to join the SSR in the first place. “I didn’t know he’d had kids.”

“Just my dad, before the war. He tried to talk me out of enlisting, but…not Aunt Peggy.” She paused, smiling fondly. “She bought me my first thigh holster.”

“Very practical,” Steve quipped. Sharon grinned.

“And stylish,” she added.

Sharon busied herself taking another drink, giving him a long enough silence to talk himself into asking the question that had been on his mind since she’d given her eulogy earlier.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, uh…” He swallowed hard. “When you were spying on me from across the hall-“

“You mean when I was doing my _job?_” she interrupted, raising an eyebrow at him, the corner of her mouth curving upwards. He returned her smile, then averted his gaze to stare down at the table instead.

“Did Peggy know?”

Sharon let out a long breath and he met her gaze again. “She kept so many secrets,” she answered softly. “I didn’t want her to have one from you.”

He could appreciate that. Finding out he was alive in the first place was enough of a shock. But knowing her the way he did, it would have killed her to have to keep something like that to herself in the short amount of time he got to spend with her.

He didn’t want to think about that right now.

“CIA have you stationed over here now?” he asked, grateful that she didn’t seem thrown off by the abrupt change of subject.

“Berlin,” she corrected. “I work for the Joint Terrorism Task Force.”

“Sounds fun,” he said awkwardly. This was so much harder than he thought.

“I know, right?” she replied with an amused smile on her lips. “So, this…Accords thing. It’s happening.”

“Yeah.” Steve sighed and picked up his wine glass. “Maybe I’ll take some time off,” he added bitterly, draining half of his glass in one gulp, despite the fact that he wasn’t a huge fan of wine. Sharon huffed out a laugh, leaning forward with her arms on the table.

“When was the last time there wasn’t a uniform hanging in your closet?”

“Why, you don’t like the outfit?”

“Oh, no. It suits you. Trust me.”

The way she smiled at him, leaning back in her chair again, made his heart pound hard in his chest, and for all the wrong reasons. He couldn’t help the guilt bubbling up in the pit of his stomach, especially when his traitor of a brain wandered and suddenly imagined Natasha sitting across from him instead.

“Steve.” The two of them both glanced over to see Sam approaching them. Steve frowned at the look on his face. “There’s something you need to see.”

“What’s wrong?” Sam swallowed hard and motioned for them to follow him, but before they could stand, Sharon’s phone suddenly started ringing. Steve glanced between her and Sam, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.

“Jesus, I’m supposed to be on family leave right now,” Sharon huffed irritably. She stood and started heading towards the lobby of the hotel. Steve hopped up and followed her, Sam close behind. “Ross, I’m at my aunt’s funeral, what the hell is so-“

She stopped abruptly, brows furrowing while she listened to the other line. Then she turned and gaped at Steve before excusing herself, taking a few steps away from them and lowering her voice. Steve turned on Sam.

“What the hell is going on?”

Sam held out his phone and brought the screen to life, bringing up a breaking news article. He had to read the headline on it three times before he could comprehend what it said.

_United Nations Bombed During Sokovia Accords Signing._

He looked up at Sam, mouth hanging open, as if he was waiting for him to tell him it was a joke. And then-

_Natasha._

Dread flooded through him as he whipped his own phone out of his pocket. Sharon motioned for them to follow her, so Sam grabbed the arm of his suit and pulled him into an elevator just as it was about to close.

Steve pulled up Natasha’s number and dialed. His heart thumped harder with each ring, and the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach worsened when it went to voicemail. He hung up and dialed again, but she still didn’t answer.

“Natasha,” he breathed, when it went to voicemail again. “Call me back, please. I…” He saw Sharon shoot him a look out of the corner of his eye and he paused. “Please, just…call me back.”

He pulled his phone away from his ear to text her a variation of the same thing. His hands shook as he typed.

Sharon was staying in a room upstairs, and she led them to it when they stepped off of the elevator, still on the phone. Sam immediately found the remote and turned on the television to find the news, showing footage of the explosion. The entire side of the building had been completely destroyed. At least seventy injured and twelve confirmed dead, so far. The only name that had been released was that of the king of Wakanda.

Steve desperately checked his phone again. He was halfway through a second text when he heard it.

“_Officials have released a video of the suspect, who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, The Winter Soldier_.”

_Fuck_.

The newscaster continued speaking, but Steve couldn’t comprehend a single word he said. His jaw tightened as he stared at the photo they’d provided; it was taken from a grainy security video, but the face was unmistakably Bucky.

He felt Sam’s eyes on him but he couldn’t tear his own away from the screen.

“I have to go to work.” When had Sharon gotten off of the phone and came to stand next to him? He hadn’t even noticed.

“What do you wanna do, Steve?” Sam asked. Steve let out a long breath and glanced over at him.

He remembered what Natasha had told him the other night. _They can arrest you now_.

“Look…” Steve’s eyes flitted over to Sharon’s. She was watching him carefully. “Legally, I’m obligated to remind you that you should, under _no_ circumstances, get involved in this.” She tilted her head to the side slightly. “But if you happen to slip past the police barricade without my knowledge, _technically_…there’s nothing I can do.”

“If you wanna do this, I’m with you,” Sam added. “You know I am.”

Steve glanced between the two of them, mind racing. Anyone else…it would be hard to sit back and let Tony, Natasha, and the police take care of this, but he could do it.

But this wasn’t anyone else. It was _Bucky_.

He didn’t have a choice.

The United Nations complex was in absolute chaos. There were blockades and security everywhere, and if it hadn’t been for Sharon’s help, there was no way in hell they’d have gotten anywhere close to the scene of the explosion. Dust and debris covered every surface and police, CIA, and medical vehicles were crowding the streets.

Sharon left them in a little coffee shop just outside of the site of the explosion, telling them to stay put, give her an hour, and she’d bring back as much information as she could. Sam took a seat at the bar while Steve found a spot by the window that gave him a decent advantage point down the street. That’s where it was busiest, with tents set up and medical personnel still trying to gain control over the rising number of injuries.

He’d been watching the scene for about ten minutes before his eyes caught sight of red hair, vibrant against the dust still filling the air. Natasha walked into view and sat sideways on the end of a bench, speaking to someone he couldn’t see. She had sent him a text earlier - nothing but a simple _I’m okay, call you later_ \- but seeing her now, seemingly fine, sent a wave of relief through him.

Sam approached him with two cups of coffee in his hands. He started to hand one of them off, then followed Steve’s gaze and paused.

“I’ll be right back.” Without waiting to hear Sam’s protest he spun on his heel and exited the shop, finding a spot a few stores down that he could see her, but he was mostly hidden from view. The man she’d been speaking with - T’challa, the Prince of Wakanda, he realized - stood up and left. Steve slid his phone out of his pocket and dialed her number. Her phone lit up in her hand, and she quickly tapped it and put it to her ear.

“Yea-“

“You alright?” he blurted out before she was even done speaking.

“Uh yeah, thanks…I got lucky…” A wailing siren passed by on another street. Natasha trailed off, glancing over her shoulder, then scanning the street around her. She knew he was here. She stood slowly, taking a deep breath before lowering her voice and continuing. “I _know_ how much…Barnes means to you. I really do.” Her voice was uneven, uncertain. It was subtle, but he heard it. He lowered his gaze to the ground, guilt flooding through him. “Stay_ home._ You’ll only make this worse. For _all_ of us.” She paused. “_Please_.”

He took a deep breath, his heart thudding in his chest as he glanced back over at her. “Are you saying you’ll arrest me?”

“_No._” She sighed into the phone, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head. “_Someone_ will. If you interfere…that’s now it works now.”

“If he’s this far gone, Nat…I should be the one to bring him in.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “_Why_?”

“Because I’m the one least likely to die trying.”

Before she could interject and talk him out of it he hung up, swallowing hard against the lump forming in his throat. He turned, making his way quickly through the crowd of people and back through the barricades, not daring to look back at her.

He couldn’t make this a matter of Bucky or Natasha, and he knew if he watched at her any longer, that’s what it would become. She would never let him make it a choice between the two of them either, but if he put himself in the position to have to choose…

He couldn’t even entertain the idea. Natasha would always be there, and she knew him better than anyone else, even when they disagreed. But Bucky’s life was at stake, so if pushing her away until this blew over was the only way to prevent himself from choosing between the two people he loved most in the world…as much as it killed him, he had to do it.

Sam was waiting for him at the bar of the coffee shop when he reentered. He slid his phone back into the pocket of his jacket and stood beside Sam, leaning against the bar.

“She tell you to stay out of it?” he asked, not needing Steve to tell him who he’d been looking for. He broke off a piece of the pastry he was eating shoving it into his mouth. Steve didn’t answer. “Might have a point.”

“He’d do it for me,” Steve countered.

“In 1945, maybe. I just wanna make sure we consider all our options.” He paused, going for another piece of his pastry. “The people who shoot at you usually wind up shooting at me.” He glanced over at him with a crooked smile.

Suddenly Steve felt movement on his other side. “Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public,” came Sharon’s low voice. “Everybody thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of it’s noise-“ She quickly shoved a manila folder across the countertop towards him. “-except for this.” Steve grabbed it and pulled it in front of him, still facing forward. “My boss expects a briefing pretty much now, so that’s all of that story you’re gonna get.”

“Thank you,” Steve replied. She sighed.

“And you’re gonna have to hurry.” She finally glanced over at him. “We have orders to shoot on sight.”

And then she was gone, slipping back into the crowd and exiting the cafe as quickly and invisibly as she’d come in. Steve dropped his gaze to the file under his fingertips and lifted the front of the folder. It was just two sheets of paper: the first, a transcript from an emergency call, translated from Romanian, and the second blank except for an address scrawled messily at the bottom.

Bucky was spotted at a market in Bucharest, approximately forty-five minutes ago.

Despite the situation, relief flooded through him as he did the math. There was no way Bucky could have been seen by a security camera in the parking garage below the UN building this morning, and made it all the way back to Bucharest already. Not unless he had access to a flight, and that was too much of a stretch. The airport had so much security they’d have found him already.

He didn’t do it.

That fact only raised more questions, but Steve didn’t have time to ponder them.

Natasha had flown herself here, meaning her quinjet was probably at the airport. With the arc reactor engines, it could get them to Romania in thirty minutes instead of an hour and a half. Natasha would be livid, but he didn’t have another option. He had to get to Bucky first.

Steve shut the file and glanced over at Sam, who nodded.

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just want to point something out: in my version of canon, steve got nat the necklace she wears throughout the movie. the original version of chapter one was him giving it to her for her birthday, and i did a little research on green gemstones that would make it symbolic.
> 
> green sapphires are rare, and can range in color from light to dark green, and blue-green to yellow-green, which conveniently happen to be the colors of nat's eyes. they are supposed to be calming and aid in healing your soul, represent trustworthiness and and protection, and can be a symbol of honest leadership.
> 
> ultimately the description (and by that i mean steve awkwardly and adorably explaining to her why he picked it) got cut because chapter one happening in november and then suddenly flashing forward to march didn't flow right and made the whole beginning of this fic awkwardly paced, but i still feel like the symbolism of the gem is important. natasha isn't one to just wear any piece of jewelry, so it had to have some kind of meaning. considering her arc so far in old wounds and no surrender, it just fit so nicely and added a little bit more depth to how far their relationship has come since the beginning of the series. i'm also a piece of trash and once i started doing the research and realized a lot of green gems represented trust, it made perfect sense to me that he would give it to her.
> 
> i might rewrite that part (when i changed it i used half of it for the new version of chapter one) and post it as an extra at some point after i finish the series, but for now i still wanted to share the reasoning behind the necklace's symbolism. i have two sources that i primarily used for this information, which can be found [here](https://www.gemstone7.com/060-green-sapphire.html) and [here](https://meanings.crystalsandjewelry.com/green-sapphire/). there are much lengthier descriptions of the healing properties of green sapphires on those two pages, if anyone is interested!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/capsiclewidow) | [tumblr](https://capsiclewidow.tumblr.com)


	5. Chapter 5

**BERLIN, GERMANY**

“What the hell, Romanoff.”

“Nice to see you too, Tony,” Natasha muttered under her breath. She brushed past where Tony was sitting at the conference table giving her an incredulous look and collapsed into a chair.

“What did you tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him _anything_,” she snapped. “And I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

Tony had opened his mouth to argue, but guilt flooded through his eyes and he closed it, letting out an exhausted sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“It’s fine,” Natasha replied lowly.

She was tired too, both mentally and physically, and it was beginning to sink deep into her bones. About an hour after Steve had hung up on her she’d gotten another call, this time from a very angry Everett Ross of the Joint Terrorism Task Force. The Winter Soldier had been seen in Romania, and they needed her in Berlin to consult on the behalf of the Avengers when they brought him in.

She wanted to laugh. She hadn’t kept tabs on James, not since the last time she’d seen him almost two years ago in that very city, but something about the fact that he’d ended up back in Bucharest was very…_him_.

German and local police had been planning on going after him, but apparently his location had leaked, and somehow - of fucking _course_ \- Captain America ended up intervening with the authorities and caused a disastrous chase that ended up injuring three people, stopping traffic on a busy highway, and pissing off the government.

They’d been surrounded - James, Steve and Sam, and T’Challa, the Wakandan prince - and stopped the chase. James surrendered after Steve did, and allowed the authorities to load them all onto a jet and transport them to Berlin. Apparently they called Tony too, who’d arrived before Natasha, while she finished up in Vienna.

“Agent Romanoff.” Natasha’s eyes flitted upwards to see a shorter man in a freshly pressed, light grey suit breeze into the conference room. He stuck his hand out and grasped hers firmly. “Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Director. Thank you for being here.”

“Of course.” Natasha stood to greet the man, and just as she did Tony’s phone rang. He groaned and lifted it to his ear before exiting the room. “Please allow me to apologize-“

Ross cut her off with an irritated huff and a wave of his hand. “It’s not your fault. I appreciate your cooperation. Captain _Rogers_, on the other hand…”

Natasha tensed, but Ross hadn’t seemed to notice. Instead he launched into the details, explaining to her exactly what they knew and what had happened in Bucharest. Natasha half-listened, her mind suddenly flooded with images of Steve being stripped of his shield and restrained.

“They’re here,” Tony said suddenly, still on the phone, sticking his head into the room. Ross excused himself, leaving the files with her on the table and exiting the room to meet them downstairs.

Natasha allowed herself a second to cool down. She was _definitely_ pissed at Steve, there was no doubt about that. In retrospect, she shouldn’t have let him leave Vienna at all. She knew he was there when he called, probably down the street watching her pick up the phone. It would definitely be a very _Steve_ thing for him to do. She was upset with Sam too, but she knew he’d do anything for Steve whether he was asked to or not.

But this went deeper than that. He clearly didn’t trust her, not as much as he said he did, and not just with James. She told him to stay _home_, to let them deal with it. He’d _never_ questioned her like that, never gone against her with so little regard for what she was telling him.

He was a fucking idiot. And, if she was being honest with herself, knowing he didn’t trust her to keep James safe…it hurt. She understood his apprehension, of course, she’d signed the Accords and was just keeping to her legal obligations. She knew she was being narrow-minded and letting her emotions compromise her judgement. But did he _honestly_ expect her to let them kill him?

She’d warnedhim this would happen, told him they could arrest him. She just didn’t think she’d have to be the one to deal with it, to look him in the eyes and tell him he was going to be held against his will just for trying to do the right thing.

Finally, once she’d taken a moment to breathe through the anger and hurt brewing deep in the pit of her stomach, she pulled herself together and left the room, heading in the direction Ross had gone before. Tony was still on the phone, arguing lowly but angrily with someone. She ignored him, turning into the overpass that went across the river and lead to the helipad.

The second she turned the corner her eyes fell on Steve, and it was like all the air had been sucked right out of her lungs. He was angry, but the second he noticed her approaching them, his expression softened a bit.

“You’ll be provided with an office instead of a cell,” Everett Ross was saying, his voice echoing down the long hall. “Do me a favor, _stay in it_.”

“I don’t intend on going anywhere,” T’Challa answered irritably.

Steve didn’t acknowledge their conversation. Instead he just stared at Natasha, right up until she reached them and spun around to walk back the way she came, falling into step beside him.

“For the record, _this_ is what making things worse looks like.” She glanced up at Steve and his jaw tightened, but he didn’t meet her gaze.

“He’s alive.”

Natasha resisted the urge to roll her eyes and faced forward again. He was tense, and it took everything in her not to reach out, brush her fingers across his wrist and slide her hand in his to squeeze it. Regardless of how much of an idiot he was being about this, this _was_ still the first time he’d seen James in two years.

They didn’t speak the rest of the walk back, and when they approached the conference room, Tony was _still_ on the phone, leaning over the table looking irritated.

“No. Romania was not Accords-sanctioned. And Colonel Rhodes is supervising cleanup.”

Natasha took the lead, but glanced back and noticed Sam was glaring at her. Steve wasn’t looking at her at all. She swallowed thickly and turned back around.

“Try not to break anything while we fix this,” she muttered under her breath.

“Consequences? You _bet_ there’ll be consequences.” Tony turned around, giving her an exasperated look as he stepped out of the conference room. Then his gaze moved past her and landed on Steve, twisting into a hard look. “_Obviously_ you can quote me on that, because I just said it. Anything else?” He paused. “Thank you _sir_.”

“Consequences?” Steve repeated when Tony hung up.

“Secretary Ross wants you both prosecuted,” he replied lowly. “Had to give him something.”

Natasha turned to face them, and she thought Steve was going to interject but he just let out a long, hard breath and kept quiet. Tony turned and Natasha followed him.

“Not getting that shield back, am I?”

Natasha could have hit him. God, he was the the most stubborn pain in the ass she’d ever met. She glanced back at him, and found him staring right at her. Her heart sank at the hard look he was giving her.

“_Technically_ it’s the government’s property now.” She smirked to mask the discomfort bubbling up in the pit of her stomach. “Wings too.”

“That’s cold,” Sam breathed.

“Warmer than jail,” Tony called back at them, and Natasha glared at him when he caught up to her.

“_Tony._”

“What?”

Natasha just let out a sigh. “I know you two don’t always get along. But please, just…don’t make this worse.”

“Look, whatever you two have going on-“ Natasha cut Tony off with a dirty look and he shrank away from her a bit. He’d asked her about Steve exactly once, a few months ago, when he was several whiskies into his annual Christmas party. She hadn’t justified him with an answer, and he’d been careful to avoid the subject of the two of them ever since. He threw his hands up until she backed down. “Sorry. All I’m saying is, you can’t let it cloud your judgement here. He still broke the law.”

“I know.”

Steve and Sam were ushered into the conference room while Natasha waited on the other side of the glass. They’d apparently called in a psychiatrist to speak with James, and they were just waiting on him to get situated in the holding cell downstairs. There was a wall of monitors in front of her, one of which showed live feeds from the cell.

They had James in what looked like a cage. He was shackled to a chair, and the thing was made out of what was probably bulletproof glass and held together by a thick metal frame. He was sitting quietly, staring at his feet.

There was no way that thing would hold him. He wasn’t nearly as strong as Steve, but still pretty damn strong. Even without the metal arm, there was no way it could contain him if he _really_ wanted out.

But he wasn’t fighting. His expression was blank, his eyes practically hollow with lack of emotion. Natasha had seen that look once before. It was the same helpless, exhausted one he’d given her just before they’d shoved him into the chair and tortured her right out of his brain.

“Alright, their gear is in lockup, and the psychiatrist is on his way.” Natasha tore her eyes away from the screen when Tony approached her. “Director Ross is leaning towards not prosecuting them if they publicly apologize and sign.”

Natasha shot him a look. “You can’t _honestly_ expect him to agree with that.”

“Not if_ I_ ask him.” He raised an eyebrow at her expectantly, and she sighed.

“I’ve tried, Tony. I’m not gonna force him into something he doesn’t want to do.”

_“Natasha-_“

“I’m not doing it.” She turned her gaze back to the screen, then nodded towards it. “What about Barnes?”

“They’ll talk to him and go from there. Probably a trial and the Raft.”

Natasha stiffened so Tony wouldn’t see the shiver fighting its way up her spine. She’d been to the Raft. It wasn’t a place for people like James, _good_ people who had made mistakes they may or may not have known they were making. The thought of them sending him there…

She couldn’t think about it. Not now, not when they were only in the beginning stages of the process. And besides, they didn’t know what kind of mental state he was in. He seemed pretty coherent at the moment, but that didn’t mean something Hydra put into his brain hadn’t caused this. She refused to believe James - the _real_ James - would have done it on his own. Besides, it wasn’t likely he’d gotten from Vienna that morning to Bucharest so fast. There was more to this they weren’t seeing and locking him up like that wouldn’t solve anything.

Tony muttered something about talking to Steve and left. She watched him go, refusing to let her eyes fall on Steve sitting alone in the conference room, and they on T’Challa instead, being ushered into a separate room. She took one last glance at James in the monitor before following him.

“Wanna see something cool?”

Steve turned from where he’d been staring at Bucky on the monitor for the last five minutes to see Tony. He had a feeling he’d come to him, especially after Natasha had refused to talk him into signing the Accords. They probably hadn’t realized he could hear them talking about him through the glass.

Tony walked carefully into the room, the automatic sliding glass doors closing behind him. He held up a small box.

“I pulled something from Dad’s archives. Felt…timely.” Steve just sighed and avoided his gaze, taking a seat at the end of the table. Tony tossed his suit jacket over the back of an empty chair and opened the box, sitting it down in front of Steve on the table. “FDR signed the Lend-Lease bill with these in 1941. Provided support to the allies when they needed it most-”

“Some would say it brought our country closer to war,” Steve replied lowly, lifting his gaze to meet Tony’s. He let out a long breath.

“See, if not for these you wouldn’t _be_ here,” he shot back irritably. Steve didn’t respond, so Tony pulled out another chair and sat across from him. “I’m trying to…what do you call it? That’s an, uh…_olive_ branch. Is that what you call it?”

Not exactly what Steve _would_ call it. He didn’t answer that either.

“Is Pepper here?” he asked instead. “I didn’t see her.”

“We’re, kinda…” Tony trailed off for a second, staring down at the table. “Well, not _kinda_-“

“Pregnant?” Steve guessed. Tony scoffed at him.

“No, definitely not.” He paused again and finally met Steve’s eyes. “We’re taking a break. It’s nobody’s fault.”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again. That was a shock, considering the last time he’d seen them together. He was sure they’d end up married soon.

“I’m sorry, Tony. I didn’t know,” he replied softly.

“Few years ago I almost lost her, so I trashed all my suits. Then, we had to mop up Hydra...and Ultron. My fault. And then and then and then…I never stopped…” He paused to suck in a shaky breath. “‘Cause the truth is, I don’t _wanna_ stop. I don’t wanna lose her…I thought maybe the Accords could split the difference.”

As sad as it was to know they’d split up, it made sense. Tony was rash and reckless, and he often did things quickly without thinking. But insisting they sign something as serious as the Accords so soon after being presented with the idea? If he was desperate, that was exactly the kind of thing he would do.

Tony sighed and leaned back in his chair for a second before pushing himself out of it. “In her defense, I’m a handful,” he muttered bitterly with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, turning to look out of the wall-to-wall windows of the conference room. “Yet, _Dad_ was a pain in the ass, but…he and Mom always made it work.”

“You know, I’m glad Howard got married,” Steve said finally, once he found the words. At least Howard was something they could both relate to. “I only knew him when he was young and single.”

“Oh really, you two knew each other?” Tony shot back, raising his voice a bit. “He never mentioned that. Maybe only a _thousand_ times.” Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. Steve held his tongue, dropping his gaze. “God, I hated you.”

“I don’t mean to make things difficult,” Steve said, another attempt to steer the conversation in a productive direction. This was going nowhere. Tony just shook his head, grabbing his jacket and pulling it back on.

“I know, because you’re a _very _polite person,” he replied, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

“If I see a situation pointed south, I can’t ignore it.” Steve twisted in his chair to glance up at Tony. “Sometimes I wish I could.”

“No you don’t.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, but he couldn’t really argue him. If he could be the type of person who ignored all of the terrible things going on in the world…who would he be? Isn’t that what made him Captain America in the first place? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

“No, I don’t,” he agreed. “Sometimes-“

“Sometimes I wanna punch you in your perfect teeth,” Tony cut in lowly. Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “But I don’t wanna see you gone. We need you, Cap. So far nothing’s happened that can’t be undone, if you _sign_. We can make the last twenty-four hours legit, Barnes gets transferred to an American psych center instead of a Wakandan prison.”

Steve turned away from him, his eyes falling on the open box of pens in front of him. He reached over to pull one of them out, twisting it between his fingers before standing up and taking a few steps away from Tony and his hard, expectant gaze.

If they cooperated, so would the government. Maybe…

Maybe this was the only way to ensure Bucky’s safety.

Just because it was the easiest path didn’t mean it was wrong. Natasha tried to tell him that, and he _tried_ to agree with her, he really had. Natasha was usually right - something she reminded him of often - and he had to admit she had a point. If he agreed, maybe they’d listen to his input. Maybe they’d agree to make changes where necessary. Maybe this would allow everything to go back to normal.

“I’m not saying it’s impossible,” he said finally, the words not sounding right as they came out of his mouth. “But there would have to be safeguards.”

Tony looked relieved and almost smiled, taking the seat Steve had just vacated. “Once we put out the PR fire, these documents can be amended. I file a motion to have Wanda reinstated-“

“_Wanda?_” What the hell did she have to do with any of this? “What about Wanda?”

“She’s fine. She’s confined to the compound currently, Vision’s keeping her company.”

Everything he’d been considering flew straight out of the window, again replaced with the same irritation that had been plaguing him since the beginning of this mess. Wanda made a _mistake_, one she’d already been beating herself up over for weeks. Tony knew that, and he’d insisted he wasn’t angry at her, just the situation. And now he does this?

“_God_, Tony…every time - _every time! -_ I think you see things the right way-“

“What!? It’s a hundred acres with a _lap_ pool, it’s got a _screening_ room! There’s worse ways to protect people!”

“Protection?” Tony was _smiling_, like Steve was being the ridiculous one. They’d all made their choice, but forcing Wanda on house arrest because she didn’t agree? Why, because those who didn’t know her thought she was dangerous? Because she was young and Tony thought she was easily manipulated? Steve had promised her - he’d promised her _brother_ \- that the Avengers would protect her. “Is that how you see this? This is _protection_? It’s _internment_, Tony!”

“She’s not a US citizen-“

“Oh, come _on_, Tony-“

“And they don’t grant visas to weapons of mass destruction.”

“She’s a _kid!”_

_ “_Give me a _break!_” Steve held his tongue, taking a few long breaths to calm himself down. He could feel eyes on them from outside the conference room. “I’m doing what has to be done to stave off something worse.”

Steve let out a long breath, his mind made up without even having to consider it.

“You keep tellin’ yourself that,” he snapped. Tony didn’t have a reply to that, so he turned to drop the pen in his hand back down on the table. “Hate to break up the set.”

He wordlessly left the room, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He had no idea what this meant, not only for him and Sam, but for Bucky. If his treatment was contingent on them signing the Accords…

There was no way in hell he’d stand for that.

“Hey, you alright?”

Steve blinked over at Sam, watching him with a cup of coffee in his hand and a concerned crease between his brows.

“Have you seen Nat?” he asked, instead of answering his question. He didn’t care if she was pissed at him right now. He needed her, needed her to calm him down and tell him what to do. Tell him she didn’t know about Wanda or agree to it.

“Yeah, I saw her go in to talk to the cat dude a few minutes ago,” he replied. Steve closed his eyes, taking a deep breath against the nauseating panic bubbling in the pit of his stomach. “Hey, breathe, man. We have free rein of this area, let’s go for a walk, okay?”

He didn’t _want_ to go for a walk, didn’t want to have Sam watch him with his worried eyes and try to distract him with jokes and a cup of coffee. He wanted…

He wanted all this bullshit to be over. He wanted to go back to a few days ago, when he’d woken up in his room at the compound with a peaceful, sleeping Natasha curled up in his arms.

“Alright,” he agreed. Sam reached out to lightly grab his arm and steer him in the direction he’d just come from.

“So, I guess when you said you’d do it yourself, you meant you’d…do it_ yourself._”

T’Challa just stared at Natasha, watching her carefully while she crossed the room and leaned back to sit on the arm of a chair. He narrowed his eyes at her thoughtfully.

“You are not used to the truth, are you?” he asked. Natasha swallowed thickly, uncomfortable under his gaze. She had met very few people in her long life who could see through her so easily.

“I got a look at your suit,” she said instead, expertly cool. “Vibranium weave. I’m impressed.” She paused, her lips curving upwards a bit. “You realize that this puts you under the Accords’ jurisdiction, right?”

“How long do US psychological evaluations usually take?”

“Why, you bored?” she shot back with half a smirk to cover up the irritation bubbling deep in the pit of her stomach. He didn’t know James, didn’t know him as anyone but the man who killed his father. But his eagerness to take custody of him made her uneasy.

“Not currently. But my prisoner and I have a plane to catch.”

Natasha took a deep breath, giving herself a second to mask the discomfort behind her smile.

“I realize you’re not one for politics, but I think there’s a chance you’re being a bit naive.”

The curiosity and thoughtfulness behind T’Challa’s eyes faded into something much angrier. He stared her down for a few long seconds, but as soon as he opened his mouth to reply, Everett Ross barged into the room.

“_Congratulations_, your highness,” he said loudly. “He got extradition.”

Natasha’s eyes widened a bit and flew up to land on Ross. He just glanced between the two of them and sighed irritably before leaving the room again.

T’Challa was staring at Natasha, visibly displeased with her reaction despite his previous attempts at keeping a straight face. She was supposed to be neutral on this, especially considering she’d been asked to consult with the Joint Terrorism Task Force.

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff,” he said finally, his voice lowering. “I’m sure I have _much_ to learn.”

With that he stood, shooting her one last look before following Ross.

This was good. Regardless of whatever deal they made with Steve, James was going back to the US with them. He was going _home_. His other option was to be sent to Wakanda with T’Challa - who would now become king - to be punished in whatever way they saw fit. They had _control_ now.

Steve would be happy. There was still a fight ahead of them, and there would definitely be a trial…but at least Tony could be swayed. He usually listened to her. Secretary Ross would still be pissed at the situation, but with her having signed the Accords, there was a greater chance of him being willing to negotiate. They could send James somewhere that would _help _him, get him to American psychiatrists that would help him sort through all of the shit in his head. He would have her and Steve to help him through it.

Natasha stood and crossed the room, glancing around for him once she was back in the main area. She found him, outside of the conference room standing next to Sam and Sharon Carter. She was speaking to him, and suddenly his eyes grew wide and his lips curved up into what was a very clearly relieved grin.

Natasha stopped dead in her tracks, her heart sinking in her chest. Sharon told him already.

It was _stupid_. Completely juvenile. What did it matter if Sharon was the one to tell him instead of her? He would be happy either way, wouldn’t he?

_Stupid_.

Instead of approaching Steve she turned towards where Tony was, standing alone watching James on the security feed.

“He’s not gonna sign,” he said lowly.

“I told you,” she replied, to which Tony let out a frustrated huff.

“He was open to it until I mentioned Wanda. Then he got pissed again and stormed out.”

Natasha glanced over to him curiously. “What does Wanda have to do with this?” Tony swallowed thickly, pointedly avoiding her gaze. “_Tony_.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but hesitated. Before he could speak, however, Everett Ross came bustling over, planting himself directly in front of the wall of screens. Then there was movement in James’ cell as someone entered the room.

“_Hello, Mr. Barnes_,” the man said, his accent thick and distinctly eastern-European. “_I’ve been sent by the United Nations to evaluate you. Do you mind if I sit?_” James didn’t answer, remaining still and staring up at the ceiling of the ridiculous cage they’d shoved him in. The man sat and began taking notes on his notepad before trying again. “_Your first name is James?_”

More silence. Natasha saw movement in the corner of her eye and turned her head to the side just enough to catch a glimpse of Sharon, who had just entered the office with Steve and Sam again.

“_I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?_” the man continued, but Natasha was too distracted to pay attention to the screen. She was watching Sharon, who was not-so-subtly looking at Steve instead of the screen. A lump rose in her throat and she looked away, tightening her jaw against the hard thumping of her heart.

She refused to be…jealous? Is that what the burning, sinking feeling in her chest was?

Steve could do what he wanted. She’d told him as much. What did it matter to her?

“_I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James_.”

“_My name is Bucky_,” James said finally, his voice low and strained. Natasha forced herself to focus on the screen. The therapist paused and began writing more notes on his pad.

“This is pointless,” Tony muttered next to her, but she couldn’t form a reply.

“_Tell me Bucky,_” the man continued finally, “_you’ve seen a great deal haven’t you?_”

“_I don’t wanna talk about it_.”

James was staring right at the man now, his voice tight, and the panic swirling his eyes obvious even through the lens of a security camera. Natasha let out a frustrated sigh. She knew all of the shit he’d been though, or at least all of it that hadn’t been wiped from her own mind. Forcing him into this situation wasn’t going to get them anywhere.

“_You feel that, if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop?_”

Something about the way the man had phrased the question put her on edge. She’d dealt with plenty of therapists, particularly after Clint brought her in to SHIELD and she was in the exact same position as James. They were never that abrupt, especially with someone so emotionally unstable. She glanced over at Tony, who was watching intently and didn’t notice.

“_Don’t worry._” The man paused and tapped the screen of his tablet a few times._ “We only have to talk about one_.”

Yeah. Something _definitely_ wasn’t right.

Suddenly they were thrown into darkness, the screens going blank and the room illuminated only by the emergency lights, flashing an eerie red glow through the facility. Natasha shot a glance over at Tony, who was staring dumbfounded at the screen. Ross immediately snapped to attention.

“Alright, come on guys, give me eyes on Barnes!” he demanded into a walkie talkie, racing past her.

“What’s going on?” Natasha asked a tech in front of her, but he was staring at his black computer screen, at a loss, and shook his head.

Natasha looked back up to Tony, who pulled out his glasses and started talking to FRIDAY as he hurried away. She glanced around to locate Steve; he caught her eye for a brief second, shooting her an almost apologetic look before he and Sam sprinted out of the room.

_Shit._

_ “_He’s in the east wing on sub-level five,” Tony said as he hurried past her again. “Let’s go.”

“Please tell me you brought a suit?” Natasha muttered under her breath as she caught up to him and matched his pace.

“Sure did, it’s a lovely Tom Ford three-piece two button,” he shot back sarcastically. Natasha rolled her eyes. “I’m an active-duty non-combatant.”

Natasha shot him a dirty look, but suddenly Sharon appeared at her side.

“Follow me!” she said, then took off in front of them.

“Where’s-“

“They went after Barnes,” Sharon panted as she ran. They raced through the halls of the facility and down a few flights of stairs. Sharon burst through a door and they were suddenly flooded with light from a skylight, sounds of a fight coming from the room.

“What the hell…?” Natasha muttered under her breath, momentarily horrified by the force to which James was attacking civilians. Something _definitely_ wasn’t right. She knew he was till struggling, but this? Something the therapist said must have made him snap.

“We need to distract him, let everyone else get away,” Sharon breathed. She glanced over at Tony. “You stay here, we’ll go to the other side. You go first, then we’ll come at him from the other side. Keep him at bay until Steve can get here.”

“Aim to injure, not kill,” Natasha added. Tony let out an exasperated sigh but nodded, a little dumbstruck but determined.

Sharon nodded her head towards a covered alcove that they could use to get to the other side undetected and Natasha took off after her. Once in position she caught Tony’s eye across the room and nodded.

He made his move, hopping out from behind his pillar. He pulled his watch over his hand and it formed an Iron Man gauntlet, less efficient than one from his actual armor but still functional. He raised his hand and aimed it at James just as he ripped a gun off of an agent’s holster, knocked him down, and pointed it straight at him.

Tony’s gauntlet exploded with energy that made the hairs on the back of Natasha’s neck stand up, but it stopped James from shooting the other man. He turned towards Tony and stalked towards him, flinching and falling to his knees when the gauntlet released another energy blast.

Tony attacked, but James was faster. They struggled for a few seconds until James lifted the pistol in his hand and aimed it at Tony’s chest. He had just enough time to bring his gauntlet up and cover the barrel before it went off. He hesitated for a second, looking up at him with a horrified look in his eyes, but the gauntlet stopped the bullet which allowed him to rip the gun apart and smack James away with the metal piece that ended up in his other hand. James retaliated by punching Tony hard in the chest, sending him flying into a table and pile of chairs.

Sharon went next, running at them with Natasha close behind. She and James traded a few blows before Natasha reached them, kicking up her leg and kneeing James hard in the chest before punching him in the knee. He stumbled, giving Sharon the opportunity to go at him again. She kicked him in the face once, but before she could spin and do it again he wrapped his arm around her leg, flipping her around and throwing her hard at a table. It collapsed and Sharon hit the ground with a gasp of pain.

Natasha used the distraction to grab James on the shoulders from behind, and twisted herself up on top of him. She wrapped her thighs tight around his neck and hit him hard on the head with her elbows, but it didn’t slow him down. He grabbed her around the waist and attempted to pull her off of him but she tightened her legs around him and kept going at it.

Suddenly he turned and flung her down, her back hitting the surface of a table. She groaned against the pain that shot up her spine but didn’t have time to fight back, since he’d brought his metal hand down to wrap tightly around her neck. She tried to suck in a breath, but he was squeezing too hard against her windpipe. She brought her hands up in an attempt to pull his hand away but it didn’t budge and only made him squeeze harder.

“You can…at least…_recognize_ me-“ she choked out, the words burning her throat. Her vision went fuzzy and she pulled desperately at the metal despite the rapid decrease in her strength as he cut off blood flow.

But he didn’t relent, his eyes boring down at her in a crazed frenzy. She’d never seen that look in them, as many times as she’d fought him. He was brutal, but still methodical. This was nothing like that.

Just as Natasha could feel herself beginning to black out her throat was released and James was punched away from her. She gasped deeply, choking on the air that was filling her lungs so quickly it made her dizzy. She brought her fingers up to her throat, gingerly pressing them to the skin she was sure was already bruising. They brushed across the necklace there and she took it between her fingers, rubbing her thumb across the smooth gem as she calmed herself down, mind racing with the sudden realization that she’d just been a few seconds away from James killing her.

“You okay?”

Sharon’s face loomed over her, eyes filled with concern. Natasha choked out another breath and nodded, allowing Sharon to pull her upright.

“Where’d he go?” she breathed, her voice raspy and sending her into a coughing fit. She could still hear sounds of a fight, but James was nowhere to be seen.

“T’Challa went after him,” Sharon explained, and Natasha pushed her aside, leaping to her feet. “What the hell are you-“

“He’s gonna kill him,” she choked out, eyes searching the area frantically. The noises sounded like they were coming from upstairs, but before she could take off in that direction she swayed and Sharon caught her arm before she stumbled over.

Suddenly T’Challa came sprinting over to them, his eyes wide with irritation and anger. “Where is he?”

“I thought _you_ had him!” Tony shot back, and T’Challa glared at him. “_Shit_.”

“There’s an unauthorized takeoff from the helipad,” Sharon said, lifting her finger to the comm link in her ear. Sure enough, Natasha could hear the steady, distant beat of the propellers somewhere above them. “Steve is up there.”

“We need to-“

“Slow _down_, Romanoff.” Natasha shot Tony a dirty look, but she was so disoriented she wasn’t sure what she could do at the moment. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Go back upstairs, we’ll handle-“

“The helicopter went down,” Sharon updated, sharing a worried glance with Natasha. “Into the river. No one has eyes on either of them.”

_Shit_. James was erratic and Steve wouldn’t stop until he wasn’t. James could choke the life out of him and leave him at the bottom of the river, if the helicopter hadn’t already trapped them underneath or exploded.

T’Challa had already taken off back up the stairs, and Sharon shot an apologetic look at Natasha and Tony before following him, no doubt needed somewhere else. Tony took Sharon’s place, grasping Natasha around the waist and pulling her up. Her throat and lungs still burned even though she wasn’t as dizzy as before, but she let him help her up the steps anyway, shooting her a look.

“This just went from worse to _very_ worse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how to piss steve rogers off: threaten his daughter 🤷🏻
> 
> i think casualties of war is the longest (besides part 5 because of....reasons i won't yet disclose) and while i know it's a little slow, i think it's necessary to get into both steve and natasha's perspective. so i know it's a little more drawn out than old wounds and no surrender were, but those were very focused on natasha's arc whereas civil war is an arc for both of them equally. anyway, i just wanted to point that out because i know this one is a little slower than the last two (i feel like it is anyway) but it's for a reason, i promise ;) also this movie is a logistical nightmare so honestly it just needs a lot of context lmao


	6. Chapter 6

**BERLIN, GERMANY**

“You alright?”

Natasha glanced up to meet Tony’s gaze as he entered the conference room. He was watching her worriedly, his eyes flicking up from where she was fiddling with the stone on her necklace, aimlessly running her fingers across her neck every so often.

“Yeah.”

“You should get that checked.” He nodded towards her throat, and she dropped her hand, turning away from him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know how badly it was bruised, but luckily it would fade in a day or two.

“And I don’t suppose you have any idea where they are?” Secretary Ross demanded suddenly as he stepped menacingly into the conference room. He had been downright livid when he found out what happened, and left for Berlin immediately. That was three hours ago, and local authorities hadn’t had any luck finding them.

“We will,” Tony insisted. “GSG9’s got the borders covered, recons flying 24/7. They’ll get a hit, we’ll handle it-”

“You don’t _get_ it Stark, it’s not yours to _handle_. It’s clear you can’t be objective.” Natasha, who had been watching the chaos outside of the glass walls aimlessly, lifted her gaze up to Tony, then over to Ross. “I’m putting special ops on this.”

“And what happens when the shooting starts? What, you kill Steve Rogers?” Natasha blurted out defensively.

“If we’re provoked.”

Dread bubbled up in the pit of her stomach. She and Tony going after Steve, or Rhodey, or a city police force only tasked with arresting them? That was one thing. But if Ross sent a specialized tac team with orders to shoot on sight…

Steve wouldn’t expect it. He would fight back. They _would _kill him.

“Barnes would have been eliminated in Romania if it wasn’t for Rogers.” Ross lifted his eyes back towards Tony at the glare Natasha was giving him. “There are _dead people_, who would be alive now,” he continued, as Tony sank into a chair across the rook from her. “Feel free to check my math-“

“All due respect, you’re not gonna solve this with boys and bullets, Ross,” Tony interjected harshly. “You’ve _gotta_ let us bring them in.”

“And how would that end any differently than last time?”

“Because this time, I won’t be wearing loafers an a silk shirt,” Tony challenged. They glared at each other for a few seconds. “Seventy-two hours. Guaranteed.”

“Thirty-six hours,” Ross countered, and turned to walk out of the room without an argument. “Barnes. Rogers.” Natasha, who had been watching him, glanced away at the mention of Steve’s name. “_Wilson_.”

“_Thank _you, sir,” Tony called bitterly after Ross. He let out a sigh and slid his hand under the collar of his shirt to rub it over his collarbone. “My left arm is numb, is that normal?”

Natasha stood and approached him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“You all right?”

“Always,” Tony muttered, looking down. Natasha let out a long breath and crossed her arms. “Thirty-six hours, geez…”

“We’re _seriously_ understaffed.”

“Oh yeah,” he agreed.

Natasha shot a quick glance at him, then lowered her eyes to the floor. Steve wasn’t going to listen them, and as much as it stung that even she couldn’t get through to him, they didn’t have anyone else. This wasn’t just about the Accords anymore. Their entire team admired Steve too much to fight against him, and even if Clint and Thor were there, there was no way they would agree.

A thought floated across her mind. _What if he’s right?_ Steve was a stubborn as hell and she knew he’d go to the ends of the earth to protect James, but something about the entire situation wasn’t sitting right with her. She longed to call him, to talk this through - or just to hear his voice and know he was okay - but after seeing the helicopter go down in the river, she knew his phone was most likely destroyed. Besides, he wasn’t happy with her. She didn’t know if he would even answer.

Who was she kidding? It was _Steve_. He’d always answer.

Tony leaned back in his chair and raised his eyes to meet hers.

“It’s be great if we had a Hulk, right about now…any shot? “

Natasha’s jaw tightened and she glanced away briefly to keep herself from rolling her eyes. When she looked back at him, she plastered on a smile over the glare she couldn’t hold back. Tony should know better than to ask her about him.

“You _really_ think he’d be on our side?”

“No…” he admitted with a sigh.

Then she remembered: T’Challa was still in the building, and although his motivations for finding James weren’t necessarily favorable, she knew he would be willing to help. He may be blinded with pain and anger at the moment, but he was still a good man and now a king, someone she knew Steve would have respect for, regardless of what side of the line he was on.

“I have an idea.”

“Me too.” Tony narrowed his eyes at her curiously. “Where’s yours?”

“Downstairs…” She frowned at him. “Where’s _yours?_”

The corner of Tony’s lips curved upwards. “Remember that file I gave you a couple months ago? Guy from Queens?”

Natasha racked her brain, but it did sound familiar. Tony sent them files for possible recruits all the time, but they never really acted on them. Not yet, at least. They had a special file in Friday’s hard drive full of potential Avengers recruits that they wanted to keep an eye on.

“You wanna go to Queens?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “_Now?_”

“Gimme a few hours. Quinjet will get me there and back before dark,” Tony replied, waving her off as he stood from his chair. “I’ll get Vision on the way and send Rhodey here after he’s done in Bucharest. You talk to his royal highness and figure out where Rogers is. Deal?”

“Fine.” Tony pulled his jacket off of the back of a chair and pulled it on. “But be quick, okay? The longer we wait, the farther they get.”

“Understood, boss.” He gave her a lopsided grin before turning out of the conference room.

A helicopter flew overhead, and Steve’s heart thumped hard in his chest. Looking for them, no doubt. They’d been in this warehouse down the street from where the helicopter had gone down for a few hours already and they didn’t seem to be closing in, plus they’d assumed the authorities would think they’d gotten further away…but it was making him nervous.

“Hey, Cap!”

Steve spun around at the sound of Sam’s voice and jogged back over towards him. He noticed Bucky moving in the next room and turned into it, eyeing him carefully. He groaned a bit and used the hand they hadn’t trapped under some sort of heavy machinery to pull himself up.

“Steve…“

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve asked carefully.

“Your mom’s name was Sarah,” Bucky mumbled in a low voice. He hesitated, glancing up at Steve briefly before dropping his gaze to the floor, chuckling weakly. “You use to put newspapers in your shoes.”

“Can’t read _that_ in a museum,” Steve breathed, relief flooding through him and a soft smile spreading across his lips despite the circumstances.

“Just like that we’re supposed to be cool?” Sam shot back.

“What did I do?” Bucky asked through gritted teeth.

“Enough.”

“_God_, I knew this would happen,” Bucky sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. “Everything Hydra put inside me’s still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words.”

“Who was he?”

“I don’t know-”

“People are dead,” Steve cut in. “The bombing, the setup…the doctor did all that just to get_ ten minutes_ with you. I need you to do better than ‘I don’t know.’”

A crease formed between Bucky’s brows, and he narrowed his eyes, thinking hard. “He wanted to know about Siberia,” he said finally. “Where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where.”

“Why would he need to know that?”

Bucky lifted his gaze and met Steve’s, his jaw tensing. “Because I’m not the only Winter Soldier.”

“Great,” Sam huffed, but Steve shot him a look to silence him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Can you get me out of this thing?” Bucky asked, ignoring Steve’s question. He shifted uncomfortably.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Steve approached him cautiously - Bucky noticed and tensed - but lifted the machine off of his arm enough for him to pull it out. He flexed it a few times, the metal whirring mechanically before he continued his story.

“He asked me about a mission. December 1991. I was sent to retrieve something from a…a scientist.He’d been working on recreating the serum.” Steve let out an irritated sigh, crossing his arms tight over his chest and leaning back against the wall. _Of course_. “There were five of them. I had to train them.” He paused, meeting Steve’s gaze again. Something flashed through them…guilt, maybe. Then he continued. “They were too strong. My handlers had to put them on ice.”

“Who were they?”

“Their most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in Hydra history, and that was before the serum.”

“They all turn out like you?” Sam asked sarcastically. Bucky ignored him and directed his answer to Steve.

“Worse.”

“The doctor,” Steve asked. “Can he control them?”

Bucky sighed and dropped his gaze to the floor. “Enough.”

“He said he wanted to see an empire fall,” Steve said, glancing over to Sam.

“With these guys, he could do it. They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight…infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize…they can take a whole country down in one night and you’d never see them coming.”

_Shit_. This was even worse than Steve had imagined. One guy? Sure. But five, all stronger than Bucky, and maybe even himself?

Sam pushed himself up from the doorway he was leaning in and crossed the room towards Steve. “This would have been a lot easier a week ago,” he muttered under his breath.

“If we call Tony-“

“Nah, he won’t believe us.”

“Even if he _did_-“

“Who knows if the Accords will let him help.”

Sam met Steve’s gaze, the words he wasn’t saying clear enough in the look in his eyes. _Natasha_. They couldn’t call her either. Even if she didn’t report them, she already signed the Accords. She’d be risking too much to help them, and besides…it would be impossible for her to get away without raising suspicions.

Steve couldn’t involve her anyway. She had too much on the line, and he couldn’t put her in the position to break the Accords and get deported or arrested. Or worse.

“We’re on our own,” he agreed. Sam shrugged.

“Maybe not.” Steve shot him a look. “I know a guy.”

“Who?”

Sam winced, avoiding his gaze. “Remember a few months ago, when we had that security breach?”

Steve did remember. He and Natasha were off on another assignment and found out a few days after the fact, but Sam insisted it was just a glitch in the system. Something told him now that he’d been lying.

“Yeah…?”

“It was a…guy. His name is Scott. He can…shrink.”

“_What?_” Steve asked, his brow furrowing.

“What the _fuck_…” Bucky muttered behind them. Sam rolled his eyes but ignored him.

“I don’t know, man. He’s got this suit and…anyway, I know this girl, I dated her for a while a few years ago. She knows people. I tracked him down, I have his contact information.”

“Where is he?”

“San Francisco. We can fly him out here.”

“_Sam_,” Steve sighed, slumping against the wall again. “How are we gonna do that?”

“We do still have people in the States,” Sam reminded him. Steve glanced over at him again.

“Wanda?”

“You know she’d help. And Barton-“

“No.” Steve shook his head, ignoring the look Sam was giving him. Clint was very decidedly retired, and had a baby at home. Besides, Natasha would be furious if they involved him. “He has _kids_, Sam. We can’t drag him into this. No way.”

“We might not have a choice, Steve.” He sighed and glanced over to Sam. “We need someone to get Lang, and Wanda is stuck at the compound with Vision. And it has to be someone who can fly a quinjet.”

As much as Steve didn’t want to admit it…Sam was right.

_Shit_.

“Fine,” he grumbled finally. “I’ll call him.”

Natasha hadn’t been waiting long by the king’s motorcade before someone followed her. She lifted her eyes and they fell on a tall woman in a sleek black dress and shiny black pumps, her head shaved with patterns tattooed into her skin. T’Challa was behind her. The woman came to a halt in front of her, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“Move, or you will be moved.”

The corner of Natasha’s lips curved upwards, but the woman didn’t budge. T’Challa came to stand beside her, glancing between the two of them with an amused grin on his face.

“As entertaining as that would be…” He trailed off, nodding at his security who reluctantly stepped away.

“You really think you can find them?” Natasha asked.

T’Challa eyed her for a second before brushing past her towards his car and pulling the door open. “My resources are considerable.”

“Yeah…” She turned towards him. “It took the world seventy years to find Barnes, so you could probably do that in about half the time.”

T’Challa paused, leaning his arm against the top of the car door, narrowing his eyes at her.

“You know where they are.”

“I know someone who does.”

He tilted his head a bit to the side. “I see.”

“Stark and I can’t bring them in on our own. We were given thirty-six hours to bring them in before drastic measures are taken. We need your help.”

T’Challa chuckled, but didn’t voice the thoughts Natasha could imagine were floating through his head. Instead he closed the door of the car.

“I think we are beginning to understand each other, Ms. Romanoff.”

The conversation, it seemed, was over. T’Challa signaled to his security and the woman gave Natasha another look before they headed back upstairs. Natasha followed them, but instead of returning to the conference room she’d been in and out of all day, snuck into a side office and pulled out her phone. Before the guilt became too much and talked her out of it, she called Sharon.

“This is Carter-“

“It’s Natasha.”

Sharon hesitated, which told Natasha exactly what she needed to know. “Hey.”

“Look, I’m going to be completely honest with you. And whether you decide to help me out or not is up to you.” Sharon didn’t reply, so she continued. “You know where they are. Ross gave us thirty-six hours to bring them in, and if we fail, they shoot to kill.”

“Natasha-“

“You don’t have any reason to trust me, but you _have_ to believe I wouldn’t ask unless it was important. Once the guns come out there’s nothing I can do to protect him.”

Sharon sighed. “I need your word that this won’t be an ambush.”

“Just me and Tony, and a couple friends for backup. No government involvement. I promise.”

“And you need to hear them out. There’s something shady going on and he’s just trying to figure out what it is.”

“I know.” Natasha paused, squeezing her eyes shut and letting out a long breath. “I would never do anything that would hurt him, Sharon. I just need to find them before someone does.”

“Fine,” Sharon said finally, though she didn’t seem too thrilled with it. “I’m meeting them with their gear and then they’re going to the Leipzig airport, but I don’t know when they’re leaving or where they’re going. He wanted to keep me in the dark.”

Leipzig? Well, it made sense, when Natasha thought about it. They couldn’t cross the border by car and it would be easy to get a quinjet out, if they were able to access one. It wouldn’t be impossible, and seemed like the easiest option.

“Thank you,” Natasha said, storing that information for later. Then she took a deep breath, adding, “And I won’t tell him you told me. In case…” In case what? In case he liked her? In case he finally stopped letting her drag him down like she had been? In case he finally listened to her and asked Sharon out? “He might not be happy about it.” _Smooth_.

“No problem.” And then she hung up without another word.

With that taken care of, Natasha pulled her phone down from her ear and glanced out of the window of the room - no one was paying attention to her - and before she let brain talk herself out of it she dialed Steve’s number. It went straight to voicemail. Of course, it was probably either off or at the bottom of the river.

But Sam hadn’t gone down with the helicopter. They clearly had a way to contact Sharon. And now that she knew where they were going, she couldn’t just let them walk into a trap. Besides the desire to just _talk_ to him, hear his voice and make sure he was okay, she needed to warn him what was coming. Maybe…

Maybe it would be enough. Maybe if she asked him not to do this, _begged_ him to turn himself in and prevent this from becoming worse…maybe he’d finally listen to her.

So she dialed Sam’s number instead.

Clint agreed to get Wanda and Lang and meet them in Leipzig. Steve felt guilty for dragging them into the situation, but the reality was…they needed help.

He’d contacted Sharon too, after buying a cheap burner at a corner store down the street. Things were crazy where she was, but because of it she thought she could sneak his gear and Sam’s wing pack out of lockup without anyone noticing. She told them to meet her under an overpass outside the city in three hours, so they stole an old Volkswagen from a mostly abandoned parking lot, piled into it, and headed out of town.

They’d been sitting underneath an overpass waiting for about 20 minutes when Sam’s phone rang. He pulled it out and stared at the screen for a few long seconds before glancing up at Steve.

“What? Who is it?” Steve asked finally, frowning at him. Sam swallowed hard and reluctantly turned the phone to show him the name flashing up on the screen.

It was Natasha.

Steve’s heart started thumping wildly in his chest. He lifted his eyes from the phone to meet Sam’s, then let them fall back to the phone again.

“One of you gonna explain what the hell’s going on?” Bucky grumbled from the backseat. Steve glanced back at him as Sam’s phone stopped ringing.

“It’s Romanoff,” Sam explained, when Steve remained silent. He saw Bucky squinting at him out of the rearview mirror. Then he groaned.

“_God_…you’re in love with her aren’t you?” Steve shot him a dirty look.

“Yes,” Sam answered for him matter-of-factly. Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’m not in _love_ with her,” he muttered under his breath, but Sam snorted out a laugh.

“Come _on_. There’s no way you two haven’t been sleeping together for, like, _months_.”

_Shit_. Were they that obvious?

“No I…what are you…” He trailed off, realizing his ears were probably bright red considering how warm they’d gotten all of a sudden. “I’m…we’re not. I- just drop it, okay?”

“Whatever, dude.”

Steve’s eyes flitted up to meet Bucky’s again. He was staring intensely at him, his brow furrowed deeply. The uncertainty - it almost looked like _guilt_; Steve knew Natasha and Tony had probably gone after him earlier, and he wondered briefly (and worriedly) if she’d come in contact with him - swirling around in them made him uncomfortable, so he looked away and swiped Sam’s phone out of his hand.

“Steve, come on. You’re not really going to call her back, are you?”

Steve just stared down at the screen, as if watching it long enough would make her name pop up again. He glanced up at Sam, unsure.

“I don’t know,” he answered. Sam’s expression softened a bit.

“You know what you’re risking if you do…right?” Steve just nodded numbly. “There’s a _very_ real possibility that-“

“Yeah, I _know_,” Steve snapped, instantly regretting his tone, but Sam didn’t seem to be bothered. He knew damn well it could be Tony on the other line tracking the call, or they could be using Natasha to get to him. She knew how he felt about her, and that he’d risk revealing their location to talk to her without a second thought. “She wouldn’t do that.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked lowly. Steve met his eyes, receiving a hard look in return. Sam’s phone buzzed and Steve’s heart flipped in his chest when Natasha’s name popped up again. “Don’t answer it.”

He didn’t want to believe she’d do that to him. She wouldn’t. He trusted her. Just because they were on opposite sides of this didn’t mean she’d sink so low as to use him like that.

Right?

His heart started racing and he felt the tightness starting to spread through his chest. _Shit_. He hadn’t felt a panic attack start to come on like this in ages, and the only person that had ever been able to bring him down from one was on the other line of the ringing phone he was holding tightly in his hand.

Before he let the logical part of his brain talk him out of it, he tapped the screen and answered it.

“Steve?”

Relief flooded through him, and he instantly felt the tension start to release from his body just at the sound of her softly whispering his name.

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?” She’d raised her voice a bit, but still only barely above a whisper. He still had that nagging worry in the back of his mind - _what if it’s a set up_ \- but just hearing her voice was already calming him down.

“Yeah. You?”

“Thank god,” she breathed. “Yeah, I’m fine. They saw you go down into the river, but-“

“What do you want?” Steve interjected, immediately regretting his tone. Natasha stopped short and took a deep breath.

“I just…I needed to h-” Her voice cracked and it sent an ache through his chest. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Steve was silent as he searched for some kind of response. He glanced up and his eyes flitted between Sam and Bucky, who were both watching him expectantly.

He remembered the earlier agreement he’d made with himself. _Don’t make yourself choose_. It absolutely killed him to push her away and let her be on her side of things while he did what he knew he had to do, but the image of the clearly hurt glare she’d given him after they’d arrived in Berlin had haunted him ever since.

For some reason, his mind suddenly floated back to a morning a couple weeks ago, before the disaster in Lagos. They were sitting in their office, Steve working on some paperwork he’d been neglecting and Natasha typing away on her laptop, teasing him about one thing or another and gently kicking him underneath their shared desk, just to get him to glare at her. He could still picture the innocent little grin she’d given him, peeking up at him through her eyelashes over the screen of her laptop, and the look on her face when he’d stood up, locked the door, and pulled her out of her chair to shove her back against her desk and kiss her.

He desperately wanted to go back to that, to their little bubble inside the compound. With Sam and Wanda and Vision and occasionally Rhodey, to their team and the new life they’d had since the situation with Ultron last year. Things were finally _good_, no threats of aliens or robots or nazis, and they were finally happy after that miserable year apart.

He _had_ to keep her out of this, no matter what it took. If he didn’t, he would lose her even more than he already had.

“Steve?”

“Why are you really calling me, Romanoff?” he asked, sounding a bit more harsh than he’d intended. But it did the job. She scoffed lightly and hesitated, like she wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Why do _you_ think I’m calling you?” she snapped back, the obvious hurt oozing out of her voice. Steve tightened his grip on Sam’s phone as a pang of guilt shot through him.

“I don’t know, but if you wanna get closer than a ten mile radius, you might want to find some way to keep me on the line a bit longer.”

He regretted the words the second they came out of his mouth. Sam sucked in a long hiss of breath next to him, and he heard Bucky groan softly from the backseat.

_Shit._

That was too far. He knew how much his trust meant to Natasha, and knew that was a low blow. But if he pissed her off enough, pushed her far enough away…maybe they could still salvage…

Well, whatever they had.

“You’re an ass,” Natasha said lowly after several painfully long seconds. “I don’t want to be in this situation any more than-”

“Bullshit,” he interrupted, clenching his fist in an attempt to stop it from shaking. The frustration and betrayal from earlier came bubbling back up to the surface. Maybe this wasn’t all an act. Maybe…maybe he _was_ angry with her. “I asked you not to sign, Nat. I _begged_ you not to. You knew what you were doing.”

“So did you when you broke the _fucking_ law.” Her voice was completely smooth, low and soft and downright _terrifying_. “And fuck you for thinking I’d actually take advantage of you like that.”

Steve suddenly felt incredibly claustrophobic in their tiny car. He abruptly turned away from Sam and pushed himself out of the car door, causing the other two to jump with surprise. He slammed the door shut, so hard it made the entire car shake violently. His heart rate was skyrocketing again, his breathing becoming erratic despite his useless attempts to slow it down.

This was stupid. So_ stupid_, the whole situation. This was _Bucky!_ How was he expected to just let it go? He would do _anything_ for him, and she knew it. And the fact that she was upset with him, for doing just that?

“Hey, hey…relax.”

Natasha’s voice was softer, but he could still tell how pissed she was. Still, it brought him back down a bit and he took a deep, ragged breath. He leaned his back up against the car, closing his eyes and bringing his free hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. She took a few deep breaths like she always did, waiting until he copied her, and he screwed his face up against the burning ache in his chest.

He tried to imagine her sitting in front of him, hands on either side of his face, and the feeling of her thumbs rubbing back and forth over his cheeks. She’d done that for years, ever since the time she’d showed up at his apartment not long after he started working for SHIELD and found him in the middle of a raging panic attack. He tried to picture her eyes, wide and unblinking, staring into his to get him to focus. Her soft voice, telling him to breath, her strong presence while she sat with him until it passed.

“I don’t have a lot of time,” she said softly, after he’d calmed down a bit. “Ross gave us thirty-six hours, and it’s already been five. If you turn yourselves in, they might give you a deal-“

“They’ll arrest him.” He paused and took a shaky breath, then lowered his voice enough so that Bucky wouldn’t be able to overhear. “They’ll kill him, Nat.”

“They’ll kill _you!_” she replied, her voice cracking again. “We had to negotiate for those thirty-six hours. If we don’t bring you in, Ross is going to send out a special ops team that won’t care about whether you get out of this dead or alive.”

“I knew this would happen,” Steve replied darkly. “I _knew_ they’d use us like this.”

Natasha let out an exasperated sigh.

“_God, _Steve now is not the-“ she broke off suddenly, lowering her voice. “Shit, I have to go.”

He felt a tug on his heart, one that was pulling him in too many directions. “Nat, I…I can’t choose between the two of you. I can’t. _Please_, don’t make me choose.“

“Don’t make me fight you,” she countered softly, barely above a whisper, but he could still hear her voice shaking. “_Please,_ Steve.”

“I’m not _making_ you do anything,” he shot back, and she let out a frustrated huff in reply.

“_Bozhe moi_,” she breathed, but he heard something else in her voice. Hurt, anger, regret…maybe a combination of the three. “Shit, I _really_ do have to go-“

“Natasha-“ he said, almost panicking when he realized he didn’t know when he’d speak to her again. He had so much he still needed to say. _Please don’t do this. I’m sorry. I love you._

And then the line went dead.

Steve pulled Sam’s phone down from his ear and stared at it, as if he expected her to call back again. He watched it for a good minute before giving up, taking a rough, deep breath.

Whatever they were planning - and it sounded like they knew _exactly_ how to find them - wasn’t going to end well. Natasha didn’t beg, and that’s definitely what she was doing near the end of that conversation.

They were counting on a fight, one she thought they were going to win. And she knew exactly what was going to happen to them once they did.

Then it dawned on him: in all of his attempts not to lose her, to push her away and not involve her in this mess…he was going to no matter what.

He probably already had.

Finally he turned to pull the door open and climbed back into the car. He turned Sam’s phone off and shoved it into his hands, ignoring the look he was giving him, eyes swimming with pity.

“How intricately is she planning on murdering you later?” Bucky muttered dully from the backseat. Steve glared at him through the rearview mirror, and he just responded with a sigh and a shake of his head, averting his gaze.

He didn’t have time to dwell Natasha, as his eyes caught movement behind them. A car was approaching. Steve tensed and reached down into the cupholder to wrap his hand around the pistol he’d swiped before finding Bucky in the helicopter.

The car slowed and pulled up next to them. Sharon nodded from the driver’s seat - the situation was secure - and pulled ahead of them before putting it in park. Steve got out of the car again, forcing Natasha out of his mind as he approached her.

“I’m not sure you understand the concept of a getaway car,” she quipped, smiling in spite of everything.

“It’s low profile,” he replied flatly.

“Good, because this stuff tends to draw a crowd.” Sharon turned away from him, popping open the trunk of her vehicle. Inside was Steve’s suit, his shield, and Sam’s wing pack. Steve glanced up at her, attempting a grateful smile that he wasn’t sure came across how he’d hoped.

“I owe you again.”

“I’m keepin’ a list.” She glanced up at him with a half-smile before averting her gaze to where Sam and Bucky were waiting in the car. “You know, he _kinda_ tried to kill me.”

“Sorry.” Steve sighed, and she met his gaze again. “I’ll put it on the list too.” She smiled and huffed out a weak laugh that didn’t meet her eyes, dropping them to look at the gear stashed in the back of the truck. A wave of guilt washed over him, suddenly realizing what she’d given up to help them. He _definitely_ owed her. “They’re gonna come looking for you.”

“I know.” She glanced up at him again.

“Thank you, Sharon.”

She nodded, smiling again, but her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Natasha’s voice suddenly filled his head, from just the other night, so loudly he couldn’t shove it away.

_Told you you should’ve called that nurse._

He thought about last time he’d seen Sharon, before the funeral and all of this bullshit with the Accords, a few months ago. Stark had invited her to the Christmas party. They’d had a little bit of time to catch up before Natasha intervened, clearly drunk and seething with jealousy. She’d interrupted their conversation, making polite small talk with Sharon until she’d excused herself.

He hadn’t minded, of course. He’d been sneaking some of the liquor Thor had left him last year into his whiskey and was probably just as drunk as she was. And she’d looked absolutely _beautiful_ in a deep emerald cocktail dress that made her eyes sparkle impossibly green and matched the necklace he’d gotten her for her birthday the month before, which she’d barely taken off since.

So why was she still hell-bent on shoving him at Sharon? Sure, he might have been interested a couple years ago, but it never went anywhere. The timing hadn’t been right, and besides…she wasn’t Natasha.

Natasha who’d left because of him, who’d then turned around and gotten herself into whatever she’d had with Bruce. Who’d stopped trying to set him up with people after SHIELD fell. She’d never explicitly told him why, but he knew her. He knew she felt _something_ for him; if not evident by their conversation the other day, but purely by the fact that Natasha wasn’t the kind of person to regularly sleep with just _anyone_. As selfish as it was he’d never pushed her, mostly because he didn’t want to risk her reevaluating their relationship - whatever the hell it was - and pulling away from him again.

It hadn’t seemed to matter in the end anyway. This was going to tear them apart no matter what.

Steve didn’t know what it was: the anger, the hopelessness, or the aching betrayal brewing in his stomach. But for some reason he reached out and pulled Sharon towards him, the regret setting in the second he’d pressed his lips against hers. She kissed him back, her hand sliding behind his neck to pull him closer as his own fell awkwardly to her waist.

And he felt…nothing.

Nothing but guilt. For using Sharon like he was, knowing it wouldn’t go anywhere because he was in love with someone else, something he was pretty sure Sharon already knew. For doing this to Natasha, which was _ridiculous_, because it wasn’t like they were together, wasn’t like she hadn’t been pushing him towards Sharon for years anyway. And for the look he could only imagine would be on Peggy’s face if she was alive, once he realized exactly _who_ he’d just kissed.

“That was-“

“Late,“ Steve cut her off, huffing out the most believable laugh he could muster.

“Damn right,” Sharon muttered as she pulled away. Steve’s face fell, the guilt hitting him again, even worse than it had just a few seconds ago.

Sharon let her hand slide down his arm and he tensed at the intimacy of it. She noticed and pulled away.

“I should go,” she breathed, glancing up at him. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully, as if she could read everything scrambling around in his mind. Hell, she was a spy…she probably could. She gave him a single nod, pulling the gear out of the trunk before closing it, avoiding his gaze as she brushed past him.

Steve sucked in a deep breath, desperately trying to relax. _Breathe, Steve._ Natasha’s voice rang through his head and he did, picturing her once again in front of him. Holding his face in her hands, her lips curved up encouragingly as he pulled himself out of his mind, forcing him to focus.

He didn’t realize he’d been smiling back at the vision in his mind until he turned around and caught Sam’s amused - but also a little confused - eyes. He swallowed thickly and shot him an exasperated look before averting his gaze and bending down to pick everything up off the ground.

Sharon had driven away by the time he locked everything safely in the trunk. He slid back into the driver’s seat, feeling a bit relieved but still achingly guilty, then caught Bucky’s eye in the rearview mirror. He shook his head.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone give this boy a hug he is Stressed


	7. Chapter 7

** BERLIN, GERMANY**

Natasha slept horribly. By the time her alarm went off she’d only gotten about two restless hours in, and had to drag herself out of her hotel room to meet Tony back at the CIA’s headquarters. When she arrived she found herself to be the last one there. Tony was back, and he had Rhodey and Vision with him, along with the guy he’d mentioned picking up in Queens.

The file she had sitting in her office hadn’t revealed anything about Spider-Man’s identity, and Natasha instantly knew why. The kid couldn’t be older than seventeen. Tony had clearly outfitted him with a new suit - he’d previously only been seen in one that looked hand-made - and he was scrawnier than she expected for someone who could stop a bus dead in its tracks.

The kid froze when he noticed her enter the room and his eyes went wide. Natasha shot him an amused smile in return.

“Late to the party, as usual,” Tony commented drily. He noticed the kid’s reaction and gestured towards him. “Black Widow, meet Spider-Man.”

“M-Ms. Romanoff, hi! I’m-“ He hesitated, and abruptly stuck out his hand. Natasha shook it, and he huffed out a nervous laugh. “I’m Peter. It’s…it’s an honor to meet you. Ma’am.”

“Natasha’s fine,” she replied, and he nodded excitedly. She just grinned, unsure of what else to say. Truthfully, no one really recognized her, and most of the people who did either hated her or were afraid of her. It was an odd feeling, and she wondered if this was how Steve felt whenever he met starstruck civilians.

“His royal highness will be here shortly,” Tony said, and Peter quickly pulled away, stepping aside. “You find out where they’ll be?”

“Yeah,” Natasha answered, but she hesitated at Tony’s expectant look. “But first we need to agree that this won’t end in a fight, okay?”

“I think you’re underestimating Rogers’ ability to listen,” Rhodey muttered next to Tony. Natasha shot him a look.

“Wait, wha…I’m sorry, Mr. Stark-“ Peter stepped forward, glancing uncertainly between Tony and Natasha. “Did you just…you don’t mean-“

“Oh, I didn’t mention we were bringing in Captain America?” Tony cut in, and Peter’s eyes grew impossibly wider at the mention of Steve’s name.

“_Captain America!?_ No, god…Mr. Stark, I can’t-“

“It’ll be fine, kid. Keep your distance, web him up when necessary-“

“Tony,” Natasha interrupted, rolling her eyes. He threw up his hands.

“_If_ necessary.” He glanced back over to Natasha. “I don’t want this any more than you do, I promise. The kid can get the shield away from him, and you can talk him down. Everyone else is just a precaution.”

“And when he doesn’t back down?”

Tony shrugged. “We’ll go easy on them.”

Natasha sighed, but finally gave in. “They’re in Leipzig, heading for the airport.”

“They need a way out of the country,” Tony muttered under his breath. “Must be why they called Barton.”

Natasha’s eyes shot over to Tony. “_What?_”

“Yeah, he got Wanda from the compound.”

“I apologize, Natasha,” Vision said softly from behind Tony, his bright blue mechanical eyes gazing at her intensely. “I tried to stop them.”

“It’s fine.” She let out an irritated huff, then added, “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill them.”

“Not in front of the _kid_, Romanoff.”

** LEIPZIG, GERMANY**

When Steve pulled into the almost deserted parking garage, there was a van running on the second-to-last level. The windows were tinted, but this was the place Clint had told him to meet, so he took the chance and pulled up on the opposite side of it. Wanda was sitting in the passenger’s seat, the window rolled down, and he noticed her eyes light up when she saw him.

Clint had already exited the drivers’ side and rounded the back of the truck by the time Steve climbed out of their tiny car. Wanda got out as well, shooting him an uncertain smile when she caught his eye.

“Cap,” Clint greeted, crossing the space between them. He stuck out his hand and Steve took it.

“You know I wouldn’t have called if I had any other choice,” he replied by way of apology. Clint just shrugged.

“Hey, man, you’re doin’ me a favor. Besides-“ he nodded back towards Wanda as she approached them, lowering his voice. “I owe a debt.”

Steve let his eyes flit back towards Wanda. “Thanks for having my back,” he said, and her lips quirked upwards as she glanced over at Clint.

“It was time to get off my ass,” she replied lightly.

“How about our other recruit?” Steve asked, turning his attention back to Clint.

“He’s rarin’ to go.” He spun away, approaching the van again and pulling on the handle for the side door.“Might have to put a little coffee in him, but-“ The door slid open with a _thud_ and the man sleeping in the backseat jumped, bolting upright. “-he should be good.”

Steve shot a curious look back at Sam, who just raised an eyebrow at him.

“What timezone is this?” the guy - Scott Lang, according to Sam’s intel - muttered as he climbed out of the van. He took one look at Steve and froze.

“Come on,” Clint encouraged, then tapped him on the back when he didn’t move. “Come _on_.”

“Ca- Captain _America_,” Scott stammered, approaching Steve with wide eyes.

“Mr. Lang.” Steve held out his hand and Scott took it, shaking it vigorously as he huffed out an uncomfortable laugh.

“It’s an honor,” he breathed, then glanced down at their hands, which were still bobbing up and down. “I’m shaking your hand too long. Wow, this is awesome!” He finally pulled his hand away from Steve’s, glancing back at Clint and Wanda. “That’s Captain America!” He pointed at Wanda with a smile, and added, “I know you too, you’re great!”

Wanda’s lips curved up into a confused, but surprised smile that warmed Steve’s heart. Steve smiled encouragingly at her for a second before Scott suddenly grabbed him by the arms.

“Geez,” he muttered under his breath. Steve heard Bucky snort out a laugh from where he was leaning against the car behind him, and shot him a look. “Ah, look, I wanna say…I know you know a lotta super people, so…thinks for thanking of me.”

Steve just nodded, unable to hold back his amused smile.

“Hey, man!” Scott pointed at Sam.

“Wassup, Tic-Tac.”

“Uh, good to see you…look, what happened last time, when I-“

“It was a good audition, but it’ll-“ Sam cut himself off with a huff. “-it’ll _never_ happen again.”

“They tell you what we’re up against?” Steve asked, gaining Scott’s attention once more. The slightly terrified look on his face faded into something a bit more confident.

“Something about some…psycho assassins?”

“We’re outside the law on this one,” Steve continued. “So if you come with us, you’re a wanted man.”

“Yeah, well. What else is new,” Scott sighed.

“We should get moving,” Bucky called suddenly from behind them.

“I’ve got a chopper lined up,” Clint said in agreement.

Just as he said it, however, an alarm suddenly started blaring. A voice rang over the alarm in German.

“They’re evacuating the airport,” Bucky translated. Sam glanced over and caught Steve’s eye.

“Stark?” he asked.

“_Stark!?”_ Scott repeated incredulously, glancing between the two of them. Steve’s jaw tightened, and when his gaze fell on Clint, he knew they were thinking the same thing.

Natasha figured out where they’d be.

“Suit up,” he said lowly, then turned away from Scott.

They all changed quickly, Steve digging Sam’s wings and the black army jacket they’d bought on the drive to Leipzig - Bucky had promptly ripped off the left sleeve, earning him an eye roll from Sam - out of the trunk. Scott, Clint, and Wanda had all of their gear in the van, and once everyone was suited up and ready, Steve turned to the group.

They were all watching him expectantly. Waiting for a mission objective. A plan. He wished he had one.

“I’ll go first, make sure we’re in the clear,” he said, zvoiding from their watchful gaze as he dispersed in-ear comms units, courtesy of Sharon. “Barton, you stay here, keep an eye on things from above. Wanda, you’re with him. Sam, Bucky-“ he nodded towards the terminal perpendicular to the parking garage. “You two keep watch from there. Rhodes was already in Bucharest yesterday and here’s no doubt they flew Vision in, so watch for the fliers.” Wanda ducked her head guiltily at the mention of his name as she shoved her earpiece into place. “Scott, you’re with me. Stay small, wait for the right moment. We might need a distraction.”

“You got it, Captain America,” Scott replied confidently, earning him a look from Bucky.

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight.” He met Clint’s uncertain gaze and swallowed thickly. “I don’t want it to,” he assured them, and Clint nodded. “Our only objective is to get to that helicopter…_all_ of us.”

“Stark won’t let us go that easily,” Sam reminded him. “We have to be prepared for the worst.”

“I know.” His stomach churned uneasily, Natasha’s words - _don’t make me fight you_ \- ringing in his ears. “If he shows up, we talk this through first. Avoid contact unless completely necessary. Once I know we’re in the clear, I’ll give the signal for everyone else to follow. Then we take the chopper to the jet and get the hell out of here.”

They split up after that, Bucky and Sam taking off towards the ramp that would lead to the terminal and Wanda crossing to the other side of the parking garage to keep an eye on the tarmac. Steve pulled his shield out of the trunk of their car, busying himself with strapping it to his arm.

Putting this off as long as possible.

“Cap.”

Steve glanced up to see Clint watching him carefully. He swallowed thickly, guilt bubbling up in the pit of his stomach, and turned his attention back to his shield.

“I know,” he said lowly.

“Are you sure about this?” Clint asked, stepping closer to him and lowering his voice so Wanda couldn’t hear him.

“Well, she’s already pissed. Not like I could make it worse,” Steve grumbled, shutting the door of the trunk loudly. It echoed across the parking garage and Wanda shot a concerned glance back at them over her shoulder. “She won’t listen to me, Clint. I’ve tried, and she won’t…she doesn’t-“

He couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud, but he felt them deep in his heart. She didn’t trust him. She thought he was overreacting, chasing some lead he didn’t know was solid or not. Risking everything just for Bucky. Expecting him to listen to her regardless of what he felt.

This didn’t _happen_ to them, they didn’t clash like this. Sure, they argued - a lot more than they’d probably admit, if Sam and Wanda had anything to say about it - but that all seemed so insignificant compared to this. They were _partners_. Except she was more than that, _more_ than his best friend.

She was…_Natasha_.

“Have you considered she feels the same way about you right now?” Clint asked after Steve couldn’t continue. He just shook his head, avoiding Clint’s gaze. “Look, I _know_ this is important, I wouldn’t have agreed to it if it wasn’t. But…Nat’s not an idiot. She doesn’t follow people blindly. There’s a reason she’s doing this, and it’s not just because some asshole told her to. She doesn’t work that way.”

“I _know_.” Steve let out a frustrated sigh. “But there’s a reason I’m doing it too.”

“I know,” Clint repeated. He let out a long breath. “I’m with you, Cap. You know I am, or I’d still be at home falling off of a jet ski right now.” He paused, but Steve couldn’t find it in himself to laugh at his joke. “I don’t want this to come to a fight.”

“I don’t either.”

“And…I don’t want to fight _her._”

Steve swallowed thickly and finally braved a glance up at Clint, finding his own conflicted desperation reflected in his eyes.

“I don’t either,” he said again, not missing the way Clint’s brows furrowed a bit when his voice cracked. “_God_, I don’t…I _don’t_ want to do this, Clint. But…I don’t know what else to do,” he admitted finally, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

Clint sighed, and Steve expected to be met with confusion and discomfort when he met his gaze again. He was supposed to be a leader. He was _Captain America_ for god’s sake. He was always supposed to know what to do, and he’d never had to admit how confused and uncertain he was. But Clint didn’t look at him like he was disappointed, and he didn’t hesitate. He looked at him with _understanding_, and a little bit of the own heartbreak he felt himself.

“_Alright, Cap, we’re in position_,” Sam said suddenly in his ear. Steve took a long, shuddering breath and stood upright. He had to move past his own insecurities, put on his _Captain America_ mask and get through this. He was the one who dragged everyone else into this mess, and he couldn’t let them down.

“I can take her out, you know,” Clint said, turning away and plucking his quiver up from the floor of the open van. “I have an arrow that shoots out nets, it’ll restrain her so she won’t come at you.”

Steve shot him a look. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not? We can take her with us. I’m sure she’d love to see the motherland again,” he replied drily. Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

“She would murder you,” he replied, and Clint grinned. “And then she’d murder me.”

“She would _try_,” he muttered back.

Steve just rolled his eyes, amused - he’d seen them spar before, and it was intense, but he knew Natasha let Clint win just like she did him - and turned away, tightening the strap on his shield before finding Scott. He was milling around a few yards away, awkward and unsure of what to do.

“Ready?”

“Yes, sir. Cap…tain. Captain Rogers.”

“Steve is fine,” he replied, and Scott swallowed thickly, nodding despite the fact that Steve knew he had no intention of calling him that. “Let’s go.”

They made their way across the parking garage and found the elevator that would take them down the the ground level. Scott kept stealing awestruck glances at him that Steve explicitly ignored. Scott seemed like a good guy, but the attention and celebrity aspect of his job always made him uncomfortable.

When they got to the entrance of the garage Steve peeked around the corner, looking for any possible traps. The situation _seemed_ secure, but with the possibility of Natasha lurking around somewhere, he couldn’t be too careful.

“Looks clear,” he said lowly, bringing his finger to his ear.

“_Looks clear here too,”_ Clint replied, followed by an echoed agreement from Sam.

Steve glanced over at Scott and nodded. He suddenly disappeared into thin air, and until he called Steve’s name he didn’t notice him perching on the edge of his shield.

“Hold on,” he told him, and Scott saluted him before doing just that, grabbing tight to the vibranium. With that Steve took a long breath, tightened his arm around the strap of his shield, and took off towards the tarmac.

It seemed quiet. With the airport being evacuated they’d grounded all flights and there wasn’t anyone around, which would hopefully allow them to get away from the airport and out of Germany without any trouble. The helicopter wasn’t far, and there was no sign of resistance.

Maybe this could work, he let himself think. Maybe they could get away before Tony and Natasha got there and avoid another confrontation.

Maybe they wouldn’t be that lucky.

“_Steve, I see Stark,”_ came Sam’s warning in his ear, and a split second later there was a high-pitched whine and something attached itself to the helicopter, their only way out, shorting it out and distracting him long enough to stop dead in his tracks.

_Shit_.

Steve eyes lifted to see Tony, floating above him with his arm extended and War Machine zooming in behind him. They both shifted in the air and aimed downwards, clanking down in front of him when they reached the ground.

“_Wow, it’s so weird how you run into people at the airport_,” Tony quipped drily. His helmet retracted and he glanced over at Rhodes. “Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“_Definitely weird._”

“Hear me out, Tony,” Steve started carefully, receiving an exasperated look in return. “That doctor, the psychiatrist…he’s behind all of this.”

There was a soft _thump_ and Steve glanced over to see T’Challa, suited up in his black vibranium catsuit, leaping over a vehicle and landing silently on his feet.

“Captain,” he greeted lowly as he stood upright.

“Your _highness_,” Steve replied uneasily with a nod. If T’Challa was here, that meant he had exactly one goal: Bucky. That just made this whole situation more complicated.

“Anyway,” Tony said, and Steve turned his attention back to him. He circled behind Rhodes, his eyes flitting uncertainly down to his shield briefly like he was expecting Steve to throw it at him at any second. “Ross gave me thirty-six hours to bring you in. That was twenty-four hours ago. Can ya help a brother out?”

“You’re after the wrong guy,” Steve countered. Tony just glared at him.

“Your judgement is askew,” he shot back. “Your old _war buddy_ killed innocent people yesterday-“

“And there are five more super soldiers just like him!” Steve cut in. “I can’t let the doctor find them first, Tony. I can’t-”

“Steve.”

The argument on the tip of his tongue died completely and he whipped around at the sound of her voice. His heart immediately ached in his chest at the look Natasha was giving him, her eyes wide and cautious. Desperate. Begging him to stop.

His own flicked down to her neck, and his breath hitched in his lungs. The first thing he noticed were the bruises, the deep yellowish-green ones coloring the sides of her throat. He immediately remembered the guilt in Bucky’s eyes when they’d been talking about her yesterday, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with horror at the thought that he’d hurt her. And then he noticed what was missing from her neck: the necklace he’d gotten her for her birthday, the one she’d barely taken off since the day he’d given it to her.

He met her gaze again and she swallowed thickly before taking a careful step towards him and lowered her voice. “You _know_ what’s about to happen. Do you really wanna punch your way out of this one?”

“_Rogers, focus,”_ came Clint’s strained voice, and Steve forced himself to tear his gaze away from Natasha, reminding himself again that he had to focus on Bucky right now. They could work this out later, but finishing this mission and proving Bucky’s innocence _had_ to be the priority. He let his eyes fall on Tony again, suddenly filled with regret and wishing he’d come up with a better plan.

Maybe there was still a way to avoid a fight. Maybe, if they turned themselves in and got the government involved…

“Alright, I’ve run out of patience,” Tony said with an irritated huff, interrupting the wild, useless scenarios flying through Steve’s head. He lifted his hands to his mouth and added, “Underoos!”

Before Steve could comprehend what had happened something smacked against his shield and it flew out of his hands. He glanced up to see a blur of red flying over him, but suddenly his wrists were tied together and he glanced down at them instead. He was bound by some kind of webbing material, and it was strong enough that he couldn’t break it with a simple pull.

When he lifted his gaze again, thoroughly confused, someone else had joined them. He was in a deep red and blue spandex suit, and was perched up on top of a trailer with his shield on his arm.

“Nice job, kid,” Tony called, and the guy sat upright.

“Thanks!” he replied happily, and Steve frowned at the tone of his voice. He really _did_ sound like a kid. “Well, I coulda stuck the landing a little better, it’s just...new suit…wait, it’s nothing, Mr. Stark, it- it’s perfect, thank you, it’s-“

“Yeah, we don’t really need to…start a conversation,” Tony cut in.

“Okay.” The kid turned towards Steve and brought his hand up to his forehead in an awkward salute. “Cap- Captain,” he stammered, then gestured to himself. “Big fan. Spider-man-“

“Yeah, we’ll talk about it later, just-” Tony replied irritably, holding out a hand to stop him. “Good job.”

“_They have to have a quinjet,”_ Clint said thoughtfully in his ear.

“_I’ll look for it, hang on_,” Sam replied. _“Keep him talking.”_

“Hey everyone,” the kid - Spider-Man, apparently - added softly, with a quick wave.

“You’ve been busy,” Steve commented. Tony whipped his head back around at him.

“And you’ve been a complete _idiot!_” he hissed back. “Dragging in Clint, _rescuing_ Wanda from a place she doesn’t even wanna leave, a _safe_ place-“ Steve heard Wanda huff irritably. “-I’m trying to keep-!” He paused, letting out a long breath. “I’m trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.”

Steve took a deep breath, the ache in his chest back for a completely different reason, most of which was anger. “You did that when you signed,” he replied evenly. Tony just stared back at him, like he was at a loss for words.

“_Cap, when you’re ready, lift your arms. I’ll shoot off the restraints and distract them for a second while Lang gets your shield back,_” Clint said. Steve just bowed his head slightly to let him know he understood. He could see Redwing zooming around in the distance, looking for the quinjet. “_Lang, be ready_.”

“_I’m ready!_” Scott replied excitedly.

“Alright, I’m done,” Tony muttered when Steve hadn’t responded. “You’re gonna turn Barnes over, and you’re gonna come with us, _now!_ Because it’s _us!”_ He was losing his temper, and Steve fought to keep a straight face as Clint mumbled a plan to Wanda in his ear while Sam and Bucky searched for the quinjet. Behind him heard Natasha take a few steps closer, and his fingers curled into tight fists as his heart thumped harder and harder in his chest. “Or a squad of J-SOC guys with no compunction about being impolite…_come on_…”

He trailed off, his jaw clenching as his eyes bore into Steve’s. He remembered Natasha’s warning from yesterday, about what would happen if she and Tony failed to bring him in. He averted his gaze and caught Natasha in the corner of her eye, her hand twisting as she slid one of her electric disks into her palm.

If they thought he’d ever let anyone get to Bucky that easily - either of them, even Natasha - they didn’t know him very well.

“_We found it,_” Sam said suddenly. “_The quinjet’s in hanger five, north runway._”

Steve lifted his arms up, and a split second later there was a soft whizzing sound and an arrow came flying straight for him. It went right between his wrists and broke the webs restraining them. Tony’s helmet popped out from his suit and enclosed his head as he spun around, but he didn’t seem to see where Clint and Wanda were hidden.

“Alright Lang,” Steve muttered lowly. Spider-Man suddenly glanced down at the shield on his arm.

“Guys, something’s-“

He broke off with a strangled cry as Scott popped out of nowhere, kicking him in the face and flipping off of the vehicle, Steve’s shield secured on his arm.

“_Wha-? What the hell was that?_” Rhodes breathed, glancing frantically between Steve and the kid. Scott came to a halt next to Steve and handed him his shield.

“I believe this is yours, Captain America!” Scott announced proudly while Steve slid his arm through the straps of his shield.

“_Oh, great_,” Tony muttered lowly. “_Alright, I’ve got two in the parking deck, one of ‘em’s Maximoff, I’m gonna grab her_. _Rhodey, you wanna take Cap?_” He lifted off of the ground and headed towards the parking garage where Clint and Wanda had been hiding out.

“_I got two in the terminal, Wilson and Barnes,_” Rhodey replied, lifting up from the ground after Tony. He reached his palm towards Steve, who quickly retaliated by aiming his shield at him. It hit him square in the chest and he flew backwards a few feet, dropping his hands as the shield slid back onto Steve’s arm.

“Barnes is _mine!_” T’Challa growled, and he took off in the direction of Sam and Bucky.

“Hey Mr. Stark, what should I do!?” the kid yelled, and a split second later he was leaping off of the truck and following T’Challa. _“_Alright, copy that!”

Steve spun around and flew right past Natasha, who was still standing there almost helplessly. He sprinted after T’Challa and threw his shield at him. It knocked him down but he wasn’t deterred and hopped back to his feet. Steve leapt after him and grabbed him around the neck, twisting him back so he flew in the opposite direction. When he rolled gracefully to his feet he bowed his head towards Steve.

“_Move_, Captain,” he said lowly, pushing himself upright. “I won’t ask a second time.”

He lunged at Steve, but he was too fast and flung his shield up to block him. Several kicks hit the surface of it, and when none of them hit he extracted his claws, coming back at him with the familiar metallic hum of vibranium. They slid across the surface of his shield with a high-pitched screech and Steve winced but still had time to duck as T’Challa clawed at his face.

Finally T’Challa landed a kick to Steve’s chest and he went flying backwards, landing hard on his back. Rhodes took advantage of it and fell out of the sky towards him with a giant glowing baton, and Steve had just enough time to pull his shield up in front of himself before it collided with the metal. It exploded with energy that sent Rhodes flying backwards. He went at him again and Steve jumped up, spinning in the air and landing a kick right to the faceplate of his armor as he passed. He went crashing to the ground, his baton snapping in half when it hit the concrete.

The victory was short lived, as T’Challa was running at him again. Steve spun and kicked him in the chest to push him away. He rolled backwards, but Rhodes was back on his feet and tossing his useless baton away from him. Both of them rounded on him, gearing up for another attack.

“Cap, heads up!” Steve glanced behind him just as Scott jogged up. He tossed something at him and Steve caught it. It looked like a tiny toy truck, and he shot him a curious look. Scott held up a little disc that reminded Steve of Natasha’s. “Throw it at this,” he instructed, then quickly took aim. “_Now!_”

Steve did as he was told, and the second the two items collided the truck suddenly expanded, becoming the size of a regular semi that was flying towards T’Challa, Rhodey, and-

Natasha. His heart practically stopped in his chest as he watched, helplessly, while she spun on her heels and sprinted out of the way. The truck hit the ground with a huge explosion and she went flying, rolling roughly across the pavement. Steve pulled his shield up to block the wave of heat that washed over them, and let out a sigh of relief when he saw Natasha roll to her back, seemingly okay.

“Aw, man,” Scott muttered. “I thought it was a water truck.” Steve shot him a look. “Uh…sorry.”

Natasha coughed deeply, desperate to suck in a breath of clean air. She rolled to her back, breathing in nothing but smoke from the remainder of the destroyed truck a few yards away, and Tony clanked down next to her.

“_Alright, now I’m pissed_,” Rhodey grumbled in her ear, and Tony reached out a hand to help pull her up.

“Is _this_ part of the plan?” she snapped at him.

“_Well my plan _was_ was go easy on ‘em, you wanna switch it up?_”

Natasha glanced behind her at the mess that was already surrounding them. Steve and the new guy - Lang, she thought she’d heard him say - were sprinting across the tarmac towards Clint and Wanda, Sam and James not far behind.

“No,” she decided finally. “We can’t let this escalate.”

“_You wanna try talking him down again? Because it didn’t work so well the last, like, twenty times._”

Natasha shot him a dirty look. “You guys _attacked_ him. What the hell did you think was gonna happen?”

“_He attacked us first!_”

“All he did was take his damn shield back!” she argued back. She couldn’t see his face, but something about the intense glow of Iron Man’s eyes told her he was glaring right back at her. “He’s _defending_ himself, Tony. We can’t let this get worse.”

“_Well, if you’re gonna smack some sense into him, now’s the time_.” He nodded behind her and she followed his gaze. They had all met up and were making a beeline towards the hangar on the other side…the one their jet was stored in.

“Dammit,” she muttered under her breath.

“_Vision, stop them,_” Tony instructed, then held out his hand. Natasha let out a reluctant sigh but took it, and he launched into the air, taking her with them.

She watched from the air as Vision flew down from the sky, shooting a beam from the gem in his head towards the others. It hit the ground and drew a line in the pavement, stopping them in their tracks.

“Captain Rogers!” he called out, and Steve glanced up at him. “I know you believe what you’re doing is right.” Tony dropped Natasha down on the ground and clanked down next to her. “But for the collective good, you must surrender now.”

Rhodes and T’Challa joined them, and Peter swung in a split second later. Clint caught her eye and shot her a frustrated but still slightly confused look, and Natasha averted her gaze. She glanced uncertainly at Tony next to her, but he was staring straight ahead of him, his eyes glowing menacingly.

When she let her eyes turn back on the group opposite them, they fell on Steve. He was watching her, his brows furrowed deeply as his eyes bore into hers. Her breath hitched in her lungs and she swallowed thickly against the lump in the back of her throat, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his.

She’d _begged_ him not to do this. Tried _everything_ to talk him down, to get him to sit back and let them deal with this. Not to get them into this mess. And what was he doing?

He was ganging up on her, getting her _best friend_ involved to fight against her. Not backing down no matter what the consequences were. And now here they were, after all of the shit that had happened in the last few days - the last few _years_ \- on opposite sides of a very literal line.

This was never about sides. She’d told him as much. But now? He’d made it that way, forced her to pick an allegiance when all she wanted was to end this, to go back to the quiet, normal life she’d gotten so used to.

She tilted her head at him, desperate for him to listen to her silent plea not to do this. Not to throw away absolutely everything they’d built the last several years, to throw away any chance they’d had at fixing this mess. Not to throw away…whatever it was they had.

But the desperate yet determined look in his eyes as he stared back at her told her everything she needed to know. Begging him to stop would be useless, asking him to trust her would be too. He already had his mind made up: this was going to be a fight, no matter what any of them said.

Sam said something she couldn’t hear and Steve responded, then started taking a few careful steps forward, his eyes never leaving hers. She let out a long breath as Tony began stalking towards him, his suit echoing loudly on the pavement, closely followed by Rhodey, T’Challa, and Peter.

“This is gonna end well,” she muttered to none of them in particular, too distracted by the overwhelming sense of dread and betrayal to care that her voice had cracked. She followed the rest of them, her eyes focused on Steve. She needed to get to him first, stop him before this got too out of hand. Maybe punch some goddamn sense into him.

“They’re not stopping,” Peter said nervously.

“Neither are we,” Tony muttered back, and lifted himself into the air.

Steve picked up his pace and Natasha took off into a sprint, but before she got to him he finally lifted his gaze from hers to Tony, who was coming at him from above. He flung his shield up just in time for Tony’s suit to hit it with an ear-shattering _clang_.

And then all hell broke loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _spider mom, spider mom. we were robbed of spider mom_
> 
> it's a wild ride from here on out, friends. buckle up


	8. Chapter 8

Natasha went for Steve, but she was blocked by Tony getting to him first. She didn’t have time to break them up; she saw Lang out of the corner of her eye, but a split second later he was gone and she was being shoved backwards. She braced herself to prevent falling on her ass but he was back, leaping towards her and disappearing again.

She spun around and threw her arms up to block another attack, but he hadn’t reappeared. Her mind raced, tracing his trajectory and twisting a bit. When he popped back up she was ready for him and knocked him back with a perfectly timed kick square to the chest. He fell back with a huff and disappeared once more.

Natasha turned her attention to Steve and Tony, who were still going at it. She had just enough time to see Steve block Tony’s fist with his shield before she caught movement in her peripheral vision. Scott was flying back at her, so she lifted her fist and connected it with his shoulder before he grew back to his full size. He stumbled awkwardly, giving Natasha time to brace herself against a flurry of human-sized attacks. Defending herself let her gain an advantage, and before Lang realized what she was doing she was flipping him and throwing him hard on his back.

An arrow whizzed by her ear and she spun around to meet Clint’s eyes. He smirked at her and she lunged at him in response. When he stepped out of her way she reached behind her and yanked out her batons. They retracted with a click and she swung them down at him, but he spun out of her way in a move not dissimilar to something she’d taught him but much less graceful than when she did it. He used the momentum to swing his bow out in a long arc, and she bowed backwards to miss a blow to her head.

Clint swung his bow at her again, this time from above, and Natasha threw up one of her batons to block it. She used the handle on the other one to curl around the bow and yank it down, then twisted it sideways to knock him off his aim. She brought the other one down on his shoulder in an attempt to push him to the ground, but he grabbed her wrist and shoved her away from.

Idiot. Didn’t he know that gave her the advantage?

Natasha twisted away from him, spinning him on his heel and bringing him towards her to wrap her arm around his neck, but her victory was short lived. He countered by shooting his arm backwards to get ahold of her, and suddenly she was flat on her back. He dropped down to bring his bow down on top of her but she blocked it with her batons, and then they both froze.

“We’re still friends, right?” she quipped, but it came out a little too desperate. Clint eased up a bit, the determined look in his eyes softening.

“Depends on how hard you hit me,” he breathed back, the corner of his lips curving up into a smug grin.

Natasha smirked, and used his inherent soft spot for her to her advantage. Her legs flew up to wrap around his shoulders and twisted. He rolled away from her and she hopped back to her feet. Clint pushed himself off of the ground, his gaze flitting upwards just in time to see her foot flying at his face.

His eyes widened, but before her boot made contact it froze and glowed red. Natasha hesitated, confused for a second, and glanced off to the side. Wanda’s glowing eyes met hers in a hurt glare that sent waves of guilt crashing into her before she was tumbling through the air, smacking into something hard and unforgiving, then crashing to the ground. It knocked the breath out of her, and she gasped against the sharp pain shooting across her back.

“You were pulling your punches!” she heard Wanda call after him.

Natasha twisted to her side just enough to notice Clint hesitate, glancing uncertainly between her lying on the ground and Wanda urging him to follow her. He caught Natasha’s eyes, his own filled with concern. She quickly dropped her batons and signed _I’m okay_, and he nodded before turning and sprinting after Wanda.

Natasha gave herself a second to catch her breath before she rolled over and pushed herself up, grimacing against her throbbing muscles, and scanned the tarmac. She and Clint had gotten separated from everyone else, and none of them seemed to notice her. Then her eyes fell on Peter, who was swinging through the air after Steve about 40 feet away. Steve flung his shield and it soared through the air, slicing Peter’s web and sending him flying towards a ramp. He landed on it gracefully, relaxing a bit and shouting something at Steve as he caught his shield.

Their conversation was short, because a few seconds later Steve’s shield was flying in front of him to block one of Peter’s projectiles. Natasha’s brain worked quickly; if Peter succeeded in holding him down, it might give her the chance to talk to him. She took off across the tarmac in their direction, dodging behind crates and vehicles to minimize any attention form the others.

When they came into view again, it was just in time for Steve to fling his shield at the leg of an enclosed ramp. It crumbled under the blow from the vibranium right onto Peter, who reacted quickly and caught it before it came down on top of him. Once Peter was incapacitated Steve slid his shield back onto his arm and he narrowed his eyes curiously. They said something to each other that Natasha couldn’t hear before Steve was jogging away from him.

Peter was struggling, so as soon as Steve turned his back Natasha sprinted out from behind her cover and over to the ramp. Peter’s black-outlined eyes zeroed in on her, then widened a bit.

“Ms. Romanoff! Hi.”

“Hey kid, you alright?” she asked once she reached him. He buckled a bit under the weight, but nodded.

“Yeah. Hey, uh, sorry, I tried to web him up, but…he’s _really_ strong.”

“He didn’t hurt you when he kicked you did he?” She reached up and grabbed the edge of the ramp, easing the weight off of Peter a bit.

“Nah, he didn’t hit me…real hard…” He trailed off, his eyes widening again. Their combined strength was enough for him to slide out from under it, and they both dropped it to the ground at the same time.Peter looked her up and down, his eyes narrowing curiously. “_Wow,_ you’re…you’re really strong _too_…”

She just shot him a smile and nodded towards the other side of the tarmac at Tony. “Go help Stark. I’ll go after Steve.”

“Okay!” Peter called, then he flung out his wrist and flew away.

Natasha glanced around again and got a glimpse of Steve not far from her, up on the base building of a control tower, bringing his hand up to his ear a few times. Trying to get some kind of vantage, most likely. Natasha sprinted towards the building, keeping herself concealed behind a row of crates until she reached the steps on the side.

When she reached the top he hadn’t noticed her, so she crept along the opposite side of a the wall to peek around the corner at him. His eyes were darting around frantically, one hand gripping the railing tightly and the other reaching up to his ear again.

“Wanda, Barton, you’ve got Rhodes tailing you,” she heard him say. He dropped his hand again and let out a long, frustrated breath.

He didn’t have a plan. It was obvious if he up here and outside of the fight, instead of on the ground in the middle of it with everyone else.

Now was her chance. She slid a few of her electric discs out of her bracelet, rubbing her thumb over them in hesitation before activating them. She knew from experience that they stung, but Steve had a high tolerance for pain.

It would be a distraction, that’s all. She just needed to throw him off a little.

It didn’t make her feel any less guilty.

Finally, Natasha took a deep breath and stepped out from behind her hiding spot, but the second she did, she saw a blur of red fly past.

Sam. _Shit._

Steve lifted his hand to his ear again. “She’s what?”

Natasha made her move and flung the discs at him, but with Sam’s warning, Steve had enough time to spin around and bring his shield up to knock them uselessly to the ground. She lunged at him and he flung the shield back up again to block her, so she jumped up and planted her feet against it to shove him back. He retaliated by pushing her away, but her boots slid across the vibranium and he ended up twisting her towards the edge of the building instead.

She’d aimed for the railing, only one of her boots making contact. Her arms flung out to grab ahold of Steve’s shield, but her gloves lost their purchase and she wobbled a bit as they slid off the edges. Steve quickly adjusted it to his side and flung his free arm out, wrapping it around her waist to catch her before she fell. She grabbed ahold of the front of his uniform to balance herself, her fingers curling around the strap around his shoulders.

Steve’s eyes met hers and they both froze.

“Natasha.” His voice was rough, and his eyes flooded with desperation. “_Please_-”

“Is it true?” Steve frowned at her, a crease forming in between his brows. “About the therapist?”

The slightest bit of relief flashed through his eyes. “Yeah.”

She let out a deep, exhausted breath and shook her head. “You need to _stop_ this, Steve. Go to Ross. Tell him what you know and-“

“You don’t trust me,” Steve cut in, brows furrowing even more and his jaw tightening. The betrayal reflected in his eyes was enough to send an ache through her chest, but she couldn’t get soft on him now.

“Of _course_ I do,” she insisted softly. The crease between his brows deepened, and she resisted the urge to reach over and smooth it out with her thumb. “You know I trust you. But-“

“_Romanoff, keep it in your pants and take him down!”_ came Tony’s voice in her ear. _“If anyone can, it’s you.”_

Steve must have heard it and smirked at her, but anger was flooding his eyes instead of amusement, the conflicted look in them gone in an instant.

“Do it,” he said bitterly. “Arrest me.”

“Jesus, Steve. Stop it.”

“That’s your job now, isn’t it?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but took advantage of the fact that he hadn’t made another move. She quickly slid her hand up, pulling it out from under the strap on his uniform and adjusting her fingers to activate her bracelet against the base of his neck. He stumbled backwards with a soft cry, giving her the opportunity to vault herself over him again, reaching down to wrench his shield out of his hands. She flew face first towards the pavement, and used the shield to push herself up, flip backwards, and land on her feet facing him.

“I don’t want you to get _arrested_,” she said, lifting his shield up defensively. He inched closer to her, the gears turning in his head as he planned his next move.

“Well it sure as hell doesn’t seem like it,” he retorted.

"Look at what's _happening_, Steve!" she replied with an exasperated sigh, and he paused, taken aback by her sudden outburst. "There's no coming back from this. All of you are going to get thrown in prison, and that’s the best case scenario.”

"What else do you want me to _do!?_" he shouted, desperation seeping out from his voice.

“You stubborn son of a-"

All of the pain and frustration inside Natasha came bubbling to the surface and she lunged at him again, raising his shield to smack him clean in the chest. But he was ready for her and reached out to grab the edge of it before flinging it away. It clattered to the ground and Steve reached out to grab her, but she ducked and spun around, swinging her leg out to knock into his knees. He dropped and she rolled on top of him, pinning him to the ground with his arms above his head. He glared up at her and she smirked back.

“When was the last time you _actually_ beat me?”

He just grinned, but the the hurt and anger flooding through his eyes made it feel wrong. Every other time he’d ever smiled at her, it gave her an entirely different feeling in the pit of her stomach than the one it was giving her now.

“I let you win half the time and you know it,” he hissed, pushing her off of him and hopping to his feet. She grabbed onto his arm on his way and used the momentum to twist herself up and onto his shoulders, reaching her wrist towards his neck again. This time, however, he caught her hand in his and pulled her off of him, spinning her around so he could grab her from behind, his arm wrapping securely around her shoulders. She had just enough time to grip it tightly with both hands before the other one was snaking around her torso, effectively keeping her still.

“Of course I know,” she panted, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. It was an odd feeling, being this close to him for all of the wrong reasons. It was taking everything in her not to spin around and kiss him senseless between a slew of apologies. _Focus._ “I _let_ you let me win.”

Steve snorted out a bitter laugh, his breath hitting her neck and sending a shiver down her spine. He had a point, though. They were too in tune with each other. They could anticipate every move the other made before they even made it. Neither of them ever truly won when they sparred, because they both had an advantage…neither of them _could_ win.

This was going nowhere.

“Nat,” he breathed against her. She stopped struggling, but tightened her grip on his arm, swallowing thickly against the sudden burning in the back of her throat. “_Please. _Let us go.”

“I _can’t_,” she whispered back, her voice shaking. She could hear the waver of his voice, the desperation, pleading with her. He let out a frustrated sigh and adjusted his grip so his arms held her tighter against him.

"Do you have your grappling hook on you?"

Natasha huffed and tilted her head as far as she could towards him. She met his gaze, his eyes burning into hers and his jaw tightening.

“Of course I do, why?” He raised an eyebrow at her from under his mask as he pulled her backwards, and she suddenly realized the answer to her question. "I swear to _god_ Rogers if you-"

She didn't have a chance to finish - or break herself free - before he shoved her towards the railing, knocking her off the side of it. Thanks to his warning she was able to quickly reach out and activate a button on her glove, and a wire shot out from her wrist. The hook hit the railing he'd just pushed her over and spun around it, jolting her midair. She swung and smashed hard into the side of the building only a few feet off the ground.

"Ow..._fuck_," she groaned, sliding down onto the asphalt. She looked up - he'd leaned over slightly to watch her land - and she glared at him. He just smirked and saluted her before turning and disappearing from her view. 

Natasha disconnected the wire from her wrist and sprang up from the ground, shaking the pins and needles out of the arm that took most of the hit. She whipped her head around, trying to reorient herself, and spotted the hangar about a hundred yards away.

That’s where they were going. Tony may have the physical advantage, but Steve was better in the field. There was no way in hell he was going to let them stop him, or let anyone take the fall for his actions. He was going to make it to that hanger some way or another.

She could confront him again. Maybe, in front of everyone else, their team - their _family_ \- he would be more willing to listen. Maybe Clint would. Maybe they could come to an agreement, get them out of this mess before it became even worse than it already was.

With a plan in mind Natasha took off towards the hangar, but passed Clint on the way, who crouching behind the railing on top of a stair car. Rhodey flew by and he leapt onto a luggage car to dodge a repulsor blast, rolling across it while reaching for his quiver. He shot an arrow at Rhodes just as Natasha sprinted into cover between the car and a stack of crates just underneath him.

“As much as I hate to admit it,” she heard him pant into his comms link, followed by the _thwip_ of another arrow. “-if we’re gonna win this one, some of us might have to lose it.”

Natasha’s heart sank at the truth of his words. Trying to talk Steve down - _again_ \- was a long shot, and it was likely his team wasn’t getting out of this. If she and Tony failed to apprehend them and put a stop to this before the authorities showed up, the government would come after them, and it would be worse. _Much_ worse. Everyone who refused to sign the accords would be thrown in prison or killed.

_Agendas change._

Steve’s voice suddenly rang through her mind, and she let out a long breath.

Half of the Avengers didn’t sign. On top of that, there was no way in hell - if they ever returned - that Thor and Bruce would agree to it. Steve was their leader, and he was stubborn as hell. Accords or not, if something needed to be done Steve would do it. The others would follow him regardless of what the law said. The mess around them was a perfect example of that.

Secretary Ross was smart. He knew this.

So what did he do? He sent the two most senior current members of the team, who happened to sign the Accords, after them. And if they didn’t cooperate, all bets were off. That’s when the real fight would begin.

But that wasn’t all of it. The government couldn’t have planned this situation with James, but it was working in their favor. They knew Steve would do anything protect his team whether it was against the law or not. He wasn’t an idiot, he tried to cooperate. He always had.

But for _James Barnes? _His best friend? There was nothing and no one who could stop him from protecting him. He’d done it before, hadn’t he? During World War II, Steve had disobeyed direct orders from his commanding officer and ran shield-first across enemy lines, risking absolutely everything to save James’ life. This was no different.

They knew Steve wouldn’t listen. They knew he’d break the law and go against the Accords. And they knew he would use it against them, prove James’ innocence to make a stand against why they shouldn’t be forced to sign their rights away. If it could happen to James, who was to say it couldn’t happen to someone else? More innocent people the Accords were supposed to be protecting? It was a solid argument that would no doubt be taken into serious question, and possibly dismantle the entire idea.

The government was fighting back. They were manipulating this disaster, shoving them all into a corner they wouldn’t be able to get out of. Taking advantage of the fact that Natasha and Tony had already signed to rid them of the only plausible threat to their agenda: Steve Rogers.

He was right.

_ Fuck._

Clint hopped down off of the luggage car and backed into the crates next to her, getting himself out of sight. Natasha glanced up at him in horror, dread bubbling up in the pit of her stomach as the realization of her monumental mistake washed over her.

“Tasha,” Clint breathed, glancing over at her. His voice shook, drained of all of the confidence she’d heard only seconds before. “I’m not going home, am I?”

Natasha searched his eyes, trying to come up with an answer for him. She wanted to be pissed at Steve for calling him, for tearing him away from his family and asking him to take this risk. But she _knew_ Clint, and that - although he was just as stubborn as Steve - he wouldn’t have agreed without weighing the possibilities. All of them, even the worst ones.

“I don’t know,” she admitted finally. She reached out and grabbed his arm, squeezing it tightly. “I’ll make sure they’re okay. I promise.”

Clint nodded, crossing his free arm across his chest to rest his hand on top of hers.

“_Holy shit!”_

_ "Oh-kay, tiny dude is big now! He's big now!”_

Clint suddenly frowned, then turned to peek out from behind the crates. His eyes widened.

“What the _fuck_…“

Natasha followed his gaze and her mouth gaped open. Lang was suddenly several stories high, grasping Rhodey easily in his outstretched hand.

_"Give me back my Rhodey!” _Tony demanded in her ear, and she saw him immediately change directions and make a beeline at Lang.

Something else caught the corner of her eye. Everyone had stopped dead in their tracks, distracted, except for two figures using the commotion to start sprinting across the tarmac towards the hanger.

“Hey-“ She placed her hand on Clint’s shoulder again and he tore his eyes away from Lang to glance back at her. “I have to go take care of something. But I _promise_ you, whatever happens, I’ll figure it out. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, his brows furrowing uncertainly at her. Natasha leaned in and pressed her lips briefly to his cheek before turning away.

“Nat-“ She paused and glanced back at him over her shoulder. He tilted his head towards the hanger, and it didn’t surprise her that he’d figured out where she was going. “You know what you’re doing?”

“Yeah.” Clint nodded once in reply, and Natasha lifted her hand out to sign _love you_ in his direction. He rolled his eyes and flipped her off, grinning, then reached back to pull an arrow out of his quiver.

_ "Okay-“ _came Tony's frustrated voice,_ “-anyone on our side hiding any shocking and fantastic abilities they'd like to disclose? I’m open to suggest-”_

Natasha ripped her comm link out of her ear and shoved it into a pocket in her belt, then turned around again and took advantage of the lingering distraction. Everyone was so focused on Lang that they weren’t paying an ounce of attention to her, and hadn’t noticed Steve and James sprinting towards the open hangar either. So she went after them, using a few vehicles and a destroyed plane for cover.

She’d been closer to the hangar, and reached it before Steve and James did. Tony and Rhodey were still getting knocked aside by Lang and hadn’t noticed her disappearance, so she sprinted around the building to sneak in through a side entrance.

As soon as she’d pushed through the door, a beam of golden light hit the control tower next to the hangar. It crumbled and fell towards the ground, but a cloud of red energy held it up just long enough for Steve and James to slide underneath it. They pushed themselves to their feet and turned towards the jet, their eyes fell on her at the same time, and they slid to a stop.

Natasha could feel James’ eyes on her, but she kept her own locked with Steve’s. He stared back with a burning gaze that swam with desperation and an uncharacteristic defeat.

There was so much she’d wanted to say to him, so many overwhelming things on the verge of bursting out of her heart, but suddenly she couldn’t get her brain to form the words. She knew she wouldn’t have time to say it all anyway.

“You’re not gonna stop,” she said finally, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. Steve’s arm twitched, bringing his shield up ever so slightly. He tightened his grip around the strap, preparing for her to attack him again. It sent an ache through her chest that was ridden with guilt.

“You _know_ I can’t,” he replied lowly, his voice strained.

Natasha’s mind raced as she tried to come up with a plan. She couldn’t stop him. Even if she had it in her to fight him over it again, it seemed wrong now. Not when she had so much regret over this entire situation, when knew she should have been by his side the entire time. He’d been begging her not to make him chose between her and James, and she’d been so convinced he was letting his heart take him farther than his head that she’d made him do exactly that, probably betrayed his trust in the process.

What choice did she have? If Steve thought it was _this_ important, she had to trust that he was correct. She had to believe in him enough to let him see it through. Letting him go would be an explosive decision. It would probably get her thrown in prison with the rest of them when it was all over, and it would destroy the relationship with Tony that she’d already felt slowly deteriorating over the last couple days.

Maybe she could live with that. Maybe she could get that back. But betraying Steve and Clint by putting a forceful, definitive end to this the way she knew was expected of her had disastrous consequences. She didn’t even have to consider the options, she’d give up everything she had for them without question. She believed in Steve, she trusted him, and it was worth the alternative consequences, whatever they ended up being.

Natasha saw a shadow moving over the rubble behind Steve and James. She took a deep breath, mind already made up, lifted her wrist, and pointed it at a spot just level with Steve’s head.

“I’m gonna regret this,” she breathed, and hated herself for the pleading look in Steve’s in his eyes, begging her not to.

She flitted her eyes just slightly to the left, adjusted her aim, and fired. The bullet from her wrist flew right between Steve and James to hit T’Challa right in the chest. He spasmed against the electricity spreading across his body, temporarily rooted to the spot.

Steve had glanced around to watch him fall, but twisted back to Natasha. She took her eyes off of T’Challa to meet his bewildered gaze.

“_Go.”_

Steve swallowed thickly and nodded. His gaze lingered on hers for a brief second, and she swore she could see the corner of his lips twitch upwards in a relieved smile.

Steve and James ran past her to the jet just as T’Challa shook off the first charge. Natasha hit him twice more, allowing Steve to start up the jet. The turrets on the front of it fired towards the debris blocking the entrance of the hanger, and they lifted up just as T’Challa was freed. He he ran after it, leaping up and grabbing a hold of the wheel, but it retracted and he lost his grip, sending him tumbling to the ground.

“I said I’d help you _find_ them, not catch them,” she quipped when he turned to her. “There’s…a difference.”

Her lips curved up into an involuntary smirk, but T’Challa didn’t find her amusing in the slightest.

“You will regret that, Miss Romanoff,” he said darkly, then sprinted past her, leaping up onto the pile of wreckage.

She knew she’d have to answer for letting them go, but T’Challa was wrong. If there was one thing she’d been sure about since this mess began, it was that she wouldn’t regret a thing. Not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fight scene between steve and nat was actually cut from the movie. there's no footage of it anywhere (i don't think it made it far enough to actually be filmed), but you can watch the storyboard of it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6pUko19d6kc) if you haven't seen it already.


	9. Chapter 9

**BERLIN, GERMANY**

“Agent Romanoff. How kind of you to join me.”

“I didn’t really have a choice.”

Natasha leaned back in her chair, satisfied with the irritated glance Everett Ross shot her before taking a seat behind his desk. The CIA had showed up at the airport almost immediately after Steve and James had left, and she was very explicitly instructed not to leave. From there she was transported back to Berlin, where she’d been ushered into Ross’ office and told to wait.

That was over an hour ago.

“No, you didn’t,” Ross agreed. He picked up a tablet and began scrolling through it.

“I assume this is the part where you insinuate I was helping them all along and lock me up, right?” she asked after a moment of silence. Ross glared at her and lowered his tablet.

“Not yet, but I _would_ like an explanation,” he replied shortly. He was squirming, struggling to stay professional. Natasha could see the twitch on his face as he tried not to roll his eyes. “You’re one of the best spies in the world. Probably _the_ best. Yet _somehow_, two of the most wanted men in the world happen to escape in your vicinity. So _please_, explain it to me, because I’m really not understanding how that works.”

Natasha just smiled. The man was practically vibrating with anger, which was understandable. He’d been in charge of dealing with this mess with James, and because of them, it had just blown up in his face. Besides, anyone who’d been on the receiving end of the Secretary of State’s wrath for as long as Ross most likely had been would probably react the same way.

That just made her job easier.

“I followed my orders,” she replied cooly. Ross looked as if he would explode.

“Your _orders? _Please, enlighten me: what part of your orders instructed you to let them escape?”

“You asked me to find them. I did that.”

Ross gaped at her as he considered her words, at a loss. Natasha just watched him expectantly. “Well, I’ll have you know there are repercussions for your actions. We have the others in custody, and there will be no mistakes this time that allow them to escape.”

“Hard to escape the Raft,” she commented casually.

Ross’ eyes widened as he stared at her, but he recovered quickly, confirming her suspicions without saying a word. She’d had a very strong feeling that’s where they’d be going, especially considering the earlier possibility of James being sent there. Plus, the way they’d restrained Wanda-

She couldn’t think about that right now.

“The Raft doesn’t exist.“

“Director, I worked for SHIELD for fourteen years. I know about the Raft.” Ross swallowed thickly. “At this point I don’t have any intention of breaking into it, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not that stupid.”

“No, I don’t suppose you are. However, you _did_ let two fugitives-“

“Orders, remember?” Natasha smiled sweetly at him. This time he did roll his eyes.

“You’re lucky the Secretary of State wasn’t the one assigned to interrogating you, because he wouldn’t be so tolerant of your attitude.”

“I prefer the term _sass_,” Natasha replied drily. “And who said anything about an interrogation? I thought we were having a pleasant conversation.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll order us lunch,” Ross shot back irritably. “He wanted to. I intervened.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at that. “_Did_ you?”

“I did. Secretary Ross is a bit…”

“Loud?”

Natasha swore she saw the corner of Ross’ lips twitch upwards. “You said it, not me.”

“But _you_ wanted to talk to me. Why? What do you think I’d tell you that I won’t tell him?”

“I don’t believe you’ll tell anyone _anything_.” Ross leaned forward, pushing aside his tablet and resting his arms on his desk. “But I _do _believe you’re a good person, and you’re going to do what you believe to be the right thing, Accords be damned.”

It was an astute observation, one that surprised her. As overbearing as Everett Ross could be Natasha liked him, and she knew at the end of the day he wanted to do the right thing as well.

“I had a good teacher,” she muttered before she could stop herself. Ross’ expression softened a bit.

“Captain Rogers.” Natasha bit down hard on her tongue in order to keep a straight face at the mention of Steve’s name.

“You _are_ perceptive, Director.”

Ross stared at her for a few long seconds, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully, before he sighed and fell back into his chair. “Look, Agent Romanoff-“

“Natasha is fine,” she cut in with a practiced sideways smile. He ignored her.

“I get that this is a difficult situation. Rogers is your partner, and lord knows you two are difficult to separate.” Natasha wanted to smile at that, but she didn’t. “But you _have_ to understand, Rogers is breaking the law. A lot of laws. _So_ _many_ laws.”

“It’s hard for me to believe any of you thought the Accords would prevent that,” she said, but instead of giving her a dirty look, he let out a long exhale instead.

“Tell me about it,” he muttered under his breath. Natasha watched him carefully, taking note of the exhaustion and defeat reflected in both his voice and posture. She wondered about his opinion of the implementation of the Accords. “While I know Rogers is a good guy and wouldn’t be doing this just to be a dick-“ Natasha let out an involuntary snort. “-it’s still my job to apprehend him.”

“You won’t.”

“I know.”

“Then what is the purpose of this meeting, Director?”

Ross gave her a hard look, considering. Finally he sighed, glancing past her out of the window of his office before meeting her gaze again and lowering his voice.

“There’s a lot going on right now. But at some point within the next twenty-four hours, once someone gets around to filing the paperwork, there will be a warrant out for your arrest.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes curiously, but that didn’t surprise her. She’d honestly expected to have been taken into custody already. She sat up straight and leaned towards his desk.

“Then why go through all of this? Why not arrest me now, ask questions later?”

“Because that’s not my style. And I want to know what’s going on.” Natasha was silent, thinking his words over and attempting to determine his motive. He seemed genuine, but how much was safe to tell him? “What do you know about Dr. Theo Broussard?”

“Absolutely nothing.” Ross shot her a look and she shrugged. “I’ve never heard the name before.”

“Dr. Broussard is the man that was called in to interrogate James Barnes.” Ross busied himself with pulling out his phone, tapping the screen a few times before turning it around to show her. It was the therapist…well, supposed therapist. “This is not the man that interrogated James Barnes.”

“No, it isn’t,” Natasha agreed, sitting back in her chair again. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I think you know something that you’re not telling me.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be head of the Joint Terrorism Task Force if you didn’t think that,” Natasha quipped. “I don’t know either of those men. I only know what Rogers told me.”

“And that is?”

Natasha tilted her head a bit, testing him. “That something is not as it seems.”

Ross rolled his eyes again and let out an irritated huff, and Natasha had to hold back a laugh.

“Might I remind you that whatever happens when you walk out of this door is contingent on your cooperation?”

“I think you and I both know that isn’t true.” Ross’ jaw tightened, but they both knew she was right. “All I know is that the man who showed up this morning clearly went to great lengths just to get into a room with Barnes. I also know that Barnes was completely compliant and docile until he did.” She paused, then added, “And I know I trust Steve Rogers.”

Ross was thoughtful now. It seemed he truly _did_ want to figure out what was happening, not just where Steve was. “But why Barnes? What is his motive?”

“I don’t know, but it’s quite convenient that the power went out and knocked out every single security camera in the building just before Barnes suddenly attacked. Right?”

“Right,” Ross agreed. “What would make him snap like that? How does a man go from calm to violent that fast?”

“I wish I could tell you it’s easy to rid your brain of the kind of deeply seeded programming Barnes was subjected to under the control of Hydra, but I can’t.” Ross narrowed his eyes at her curiously. “Trust me.”

“So…” He averted his gaze once he realized what she was insinuating. “Barnes was targeted.”

“And implicated in the bombing of the UN. Yes.”

Ross shot her a doubtful look. “That might be going a little far.”

“Is it? That security footage was taken only two hours before the bomb went off, and forty-five minutes later Barnes was spotted at a farmer’s market in Romania. That’s a twelve hour drive at the very least, and there were no flights between Vienna and Bucharest during that time. How did he get there that fast?”

“Shit.” Ross slumped back in his chair and ran his hand up and down his face a few times. “So this man - whoever he is - bombed the United Nations, pinned it on Barnes-“

“Meaning the CIA would find him,” Natasha added.

“And that he’d know exactly where he was. So when the call came in for a psychologist to talk to him-“

“He was ready.” Ross frowned at her. “So where is Dr. Broussard?”

“He was found dead in his hotel room thirty minutes ago.”

Natasha blinked at him. She didn’t know that, and it made this whole situation more complicated.

“Well, shit.”

“Shit is right,” Ross muttered with a sigh. “So this other man killed him, came here in his place, and…did something to Barnes. Set him off. But _why?”_

“I don’t know,” Natasha replied. That fit with the scenario she’d been building with her head, but she still couldn’t answer Ross’ question: _why?_ Why target James Barnes, and why bring down Captain America in the process? “Rogers mentioned something. More supersoldiers.”

“Fantastic,” Ross replied with a groan. “So he went after them himself, instead of reporting it to us?”

“To be fair, none of you were really on his side to begin with.” Ross’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t seem to be able to come up with a reply for that just yet. “You were all focused on Barnes. Maybe that was what this guy wanted. Maybe he knew the Accords would distract you from his real plan.”

“Are you saying this is the government’s fault?” Natasha raised an eyebrow at him.

“No. But can you deny that it was pretty great timing for him?” Ross’ silence was as much as an admission as she would get, so she left it at that. “Look…all I know for sure is that Rogers would do anything to protect Barnes. He’s trying to figure this out and stop anyone else form getting hurt, just as you are.”

“But he can’t just…_do_ that.”

“Trust me, he knows,” Natasha replied with a roll of her eyes. ”I’ve told him.”

“So…what we have so far is that this unknown man saw an opportunity. He planted the bomb in Vienna and framed Barnes. He waited until we found him, killed Broussard, and replaced him. Somehow he knocked the power out and did something to Barnes to make him snap.”

“Yes.”

“And now, Rogers and Barnes are going after him.” Ross let out a frustrated huff. “Do you know where they’re going?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you did?”

Natasha smirked at him. “No.

“But you don’t.”

“I don’t.”

“Are you _sure_?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be sitting here having this lovely chat with you.”

Ross knew she was telling the truth. She could see it in the defeated way he was watching her, slumped back in his chair.

“Well. This has been…enlightening.” He sat up, his eyes never leaving hers as he did. “I suppose you understand what it will mean once that warrant goes out.”

“That I’ll have to turn myself in?” Ross gave her a look and she shot him an innocent smile. “I guess we’ll have to cross that road when we get there. Am I free to go?”

“I suppose.” Natasha stood from her chair and turned towards the door. “I can’t promise the other Ross won’t want you back in here for more questioning.”

“I’m sure he will.”

“Do me a favor.” Natasha glanced back at him. “Don’t run.”

“Now, why would I do that?” Ross just glared at her, and she finally let herself offer him a real smile.

“I just…had to know I tried.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she assured him, and with that she left him alone in his office.

**AVENGERS COMPOUND, UPSTATE NEW YORK**

It only took a couple hours to get back to the US on the quinjet, and in that time Natasha had enough time to make whatever phone calls she needed to make before she’d have to destroy her phone in favor of a burner. She called Nick first, letting him know what was going on. After receiving an earful about always cleaning up their messes, he agreed to move the Barton’s to a secure location. Clint had a safehouse in Missouri that only Natasha and Fury knew about, and Maria was going to work on relocating them while Nick tried to figure out a way to get the others out of the Raft.

Then she called Laura. Apparently Clint - the _dumbass_ \- had left without telling her. They were supposed to be on vacation that weekend, but she’d woken up to a note saying Steve needed his help, he knew she wouldn’t want him to go, and he was sorry. She hadn’t figured out what was happening until she saw the news reporting his arrest.

At this point, Clint would probably prefer to stay in prison than deal with an angry wife and three upset kids…not to mention Natasha.

She tried to track down their other quinjet, but wasn’t having any luck. She assumed it was in stealth mode, and even though she had her ways around Tony’s security system, nothing was working.

At least she had a little bit of time. If what Ross said was true, and they were about to put out a warrant for her arrest, she wanted to be as far away as possible. She would visit Rhodey at the compound, something expected of her regardless of the fact that she would risk arrest anyway just to make sure he was alright. She could check in with Tony, who was probably furious with her, but going back to the compound would give her an excuse to pack a bag. And then…

She had no idea. Steve was MIA and she doubted she’d hear from him anytime soon, if at all. If he succeeded in doing whatever he needed to do, maybe - _maybe __\- _this would all be okay. Apprehending a terrorist on his own was still against the law, but there was the hope that they’d be a bit more lenient if he managed to accomplish something even the CIA couldn’t do.

And then there was the biggest issue, the fact that Clint, Sam, Wanda, and Scott Lang were all contained and being flown across the ocean at that very second to be locked away in the Raft. That would be more difficult to fix. Natasha knew Thaddeus Ross didn’t give a shit about them, that it was Steve and James he wanted, so he probably couldn’t care less what happened to rest.

The Raft wasn’t a normal prison, either. Those who were locked up there didn’t get a fair trial. They were immediately deemed too dangerous, guilty until proven innocent…and none of them were innocent. Wanda especially, since they could justify containing her with the explosion in Lagos. Clint had a record, and even though it was wiped clean when he joined SHIELD, releasing all of those files a couple years ago put all of it out in the open. It wasn’t hard to find. Apparently Lang had a record as well. And Sam…he was clean, but he’d been with Steve every step of the way and had already been arrested once that day. Even if Steve managed to get out of this mess, getting everyone else out was going to be a challenge, one Natasha wasn’t sure either of them could handle. Even with Nick’s help it wasn’t looking good, as he was still thought to be dead and didn’t have as much pull as he used to.

The way Natasha saw it, they had exactly one option. One Steve might not be happy with, and one that was going to be extremely difficult to pull off with just the two of them and James.

Apparently they hadn’t gotten around to filing the paperwork yet - or Director Ross had held them off - because no one in the medical wing of the compound batted an eye when Natasha walked through the halls. She found Tony in a small observation room, watching as they put Rhodey through a CT scan. He was awake -definitely a good sign - but Tony was still pacing with an angry, worried crease between his brows. He stopped when he saw Natasha in the doorway and glared at her for a few long seconds.

“What happened?” she asked, glancing over to where Vision was watching the scan. Tony just shook his head and brushed past her, motioning for her to follow him. He led her down the hall and out a side door that opened up onto a small balcony.

“Vision hit his arc reactor. He was aiming for Wilson and missed,” he explained lowly once the door shut behind them.He turned away from her to stare out at the giant open yard beyond the compound, gripping the railing tightly with the hand that wasn’t hanging in a sling. “He fell a few hundred feet and was out cold by the time I got to him.”

“Jesus,” Natasha breathed. There was so much chaos once the authorities arrived at the airport…all she knew was that he’d fallen, and they’d taken him to a local hospital briefly to stabilize him before Tony insisted on flying him back to the compound. “Do they know anything yet? Is he gonna be okay?”

“The doctors say he shattered L4 through S1. Extreme laceration to the spinal cord. Probably looking at some form of paralysis.”

None of this had gone to plan. They were supposed to _stop_ Steve, that’s it. And now?

“Steve’s not gonna stop,” she said, ignoring the harsh look he gave her at the mention of his name. “If you don’t either Rhodey’s gonna be the best case scenario.”

“You let them _go_, Nat,” he snapped under his breath.

“We played this wrong.”

“_We_,” he breathed out with a humorless laugh. “Boy, it must be hard to shake the whole double agent thing, huh? Sticks in the DNA?”

Natasha gaped at him, her heart sinking in her chest. Thanks to those SHIELD files she’d released, her history was common knowledge. She constantly received dirty looks, ones that ranged from disgusted to terrified. Even two years later there were news reports questioning her ability to lead the Avengers, digging into her past and analyzing every bit of out of context piece of information they had.

Everyone else she expected that from…but _Tony?_

Sure, he gave her shit about how they met. Called her Natalie from time to time and made comments about her double life as a model-slash-administrative-assistant. And sure, she didn’t expect anyone to trust her - not after the life she’d lived - but she couldn’t help but feel like she deserved a little more credit from someone she considered to be a friend, someone she’d fought side by side with for the greater part of five years.

She’d warned him against this. She told him they were going about this wrong. She told him Steve wouldn’t listen. How was this _her_ fault? She didn’t even want to be in this fucking situation in the first place!

“Are you _incapable_ of letting go of your ego for one _goddamn_ second?” she seethed once she found the words, satisfied with the subtle way Tony shrank away from her. He averted his gaze, letting it fall back to the trees, his jaw clenching and unclenching angrily.

“T’Challa told Ross what you did, so.” He shot her a cool smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “They’re comin’ for you.”

“I’m not the one who needs to watch their back,” she shot back at him. He opened his mouth to reply but she spun away from him before he got the chance.

The living quarters of the compound were empty once she’d left the medical ward, crossed the yard, and snuck upstairs. It felt ominous, being there alone knowing none of them would be coming back, but she didn’t give herself the chance to dwell on it. She didn’t have time.

She stopped at her own room first. She already had a bag packed for this very occasion - just in case - but took the advantage of a warning to shove a few more things into her backpack. Personal things, like the drawing Lila had given her last time she visited, a couple photos, and her favorite ballet slippers, the ones Clint had gifted her years ago. She already had plenty of cash shoved into a pocket of her bag - she guessed she would have enough time to stop at an ATM on her way out of town - and enough weapons and ammo to get by for the time being. She also already had two burner phones activated and pre-loaded with data, ones that only Clint and Steve had the numbers to.

Once she was certain she’d gotten everything she crossed the hall to Steve’s room. The bed was still unmade from the other morning, when she’d woken up to find herself alone and had quickly snuck out of his room before anyone noticed. She went straight for his closet to look for his own bag - the one she’d insisted he pack, even though he never thought he’d need it - but it was gone.

He knew he wasn’t coming back.

That stung a little, and she found herself staring dumbfounded at the empty space on his closet floor. He’d left before any of this mess started, before the UN complex was bombed and James had showed up and everything went to shit. But somehow he knew he wasn’t going to be welcomed back at the compound, or at least suspected it and wanted to be prepared.

He hadn’t even said goodbye.

But now wasn’t the time for that. Natasha couldn’t let herself get caught up in emotions she swore she didn’t have. She turned to leave his room, but paused when her eyes fell on the hoodie he’d left draped over the back of his desk chair.

It was the dark blue one, the one she stole from him in the hospital two years ago and had stolen from him countless other times since coming back last year. It was just a plain blue hoodie, but for some reason it had always been her favorite. It was huge on her but warm and soft, and even freshly washed it always smelled like him.

So she grabbed it, shoved it in her own bag, and left his room.

Natasha wasn’t sure where she would go, but she knew getting out of the US was definitely the first step. It would be a lot harder once the US and German governments put a warrant on her head.

Maybe she could take that vacation. Dye her hair, hang out in some touristy town by the ocean for a few weeks until she got bored, then pick up some mercenary work if she needed it to get by. This whole thing would probably blow over soon anyway. Tony would calm down, figure out a way to get them off, and they could go back to normal. Back to their life at the compound, tracking down the remnants of Hydra and AIM and various weapons dealers and mercs and overall bad guys. That’s what the Avengers did, right?

It wasn’t until she was back in Europe the next morning that she realized…it wasn’t going to be that easy.

She’d only been at Clint’s safe house in London for an hour when her burner rang from her bag. When she dug it out and stared down at the unknown number, an uneasiness washed over her.

No one had the number to this phone. No one but the Bartons, and…

Before she had time to think about the consequences she answered it and lifted it to her ear. “Yeah?”

“Nat?.”

Relief flooded through her at the sound of his voice, but it was quickly replaced with worry when she realized how panicked he sounded. His voice was shaking, something that never happened. _Never_. “Hey…are you okay?”

“I…I’m sorry…I know I have no right to ask…Bucky’s hurt, and I don’t know what to do-“

“What happened? Where are you?” He didn’t answer her at first, just exhaled loudly into the phone. “Steve-“

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.” He still hesitated and she tightened her grip around the steering wheel. “You trust me, right?”

“What? I- yes, of _course_ I do,” he replied quickly. “I…I’m sorry, I just-“

“It’s okay. Where are you?”

“Russia. I don’t know where, I just…I got the jet into the air and went south. I had to get us out of there.”

“I have a safehouse in Volgograd. I’ll send you the coordinates. Don’t fly straight there, make sure you’re not being followed first. I’ll meet you there in a few hours. Okay?”

“Okay,” he replied softly. He hesitated. “Are you-?”

“I’m fine,” she said, but it came out harsher than she’d wanted. She let out a long breath. “Don’t make any more calls, unless you run into trouble. Then call me. Otherwise stay in stealth mode.”

“Okay,” he said again. “I…thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” When did things between them become so…_formal? “_Be careful.”

“You too.”

The line went dead, and Natasha found herself staring at the home screen of her phone. They hadn’t called for her arrest yet - they’d probably just begun to realize she was gone - but doing this, meeting up with Steve and James, helping them again? It would definitely fast track the process.

She had to be careful. She could deal with the Raft - she’d had much, _much_ worse - but Steve couldn’t. And there was no way in hell she’d let him get locked up in there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first half of this chapter was inspired by the heroes journey book, and i took a few (altered) lines from it. if you haven't read it yet.............you need to asap. also, just a forewarning, there may not be an update next sunday. i'm going to comic con and we're going to be gone all weekend. so it'll either be earlier (if i have time to edit it before friday) or early next week. as always, thank you so much for your continued support and comments and kudos <3
> 
> ps i fucking love everett ross.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> russian translations at the end

**VOLGOGRAD, RUSSIA**

There was a light on in the house by the time Natasha pulled into the driveway, illuminated through the pitch black of the dark night. She couldn’t see the jet, but she assumed Steve had either put it into stealth mode or hidden it in the trees a few hundred yards away. It had been a long day, taking three different flights under two different names from London, renting a car in Volgograd under a third name, and traveling a few hours north of the city to where her safehouse was located. By the time she arrived, she was looking forward to a very long shower and the first good night’s sleep in days.

The place was small, just a narrow galley kitchen, a living room big enough for an old couch and some storage, a single bathroom, and two tiny bedrooms. It was old and had been abandoned for years, and was the only structure on a long stretch of road, meaning the occasional car driving by wouldn’t notice if no one was home for months or years at a time. She’d bought it shortly after joining SHIELD, wanting a place to stay whenever she got homesick. An apartment in the city was too risky with the amount of people within it who would probably love to get their hands on her, but this little _dacha_ in the middle of nowhere was far enough away from Volgograd that she could still visit without drawing too much attention.

After parking the car in the old garage behind the house that was falling apart, she grabbed her bag out of the passengers seat and pulled a pistol out of it, just in case. She assumed Steve had put the jet in stealth mode before calling her, and the burner he’d called her on was secure, but she couldn’t be too careful.

She crept around the back of the house and peered in through the window above the sink to see James sitting at the table while Steve tended to a wound on the side of his face. Deeming the situation secure, she let the hand with the pistol fall to the side and rounded the house to the front door.

“You guys look like shit,” she greeted them flatly after bolting the door tightly behind her and making her way into the kitchen. James didn’t look up at her, but Steve did, catching her gaze and holding it there for a few long seconds. Natasha pressed her lips together tightly and looked away, dumping her bag on the ground. She made a beeline for the freezer, pulling out a bottle of vodka, twisting open the cap and taking a long gulp.

“You gonna share?” James muttered lowly from the table, his speech a bit slurred, and Steve shot him a look.

“You have a _concussion_, Buck.” James just stared at him expressionlessly in response.

“One drink won’t kill him,” Natasha replied, ignoring Steve’s indignant huff and crossing the room to hand James the bottle. He pulled away from Steve and took an equally long swig of it before handing it back.

Now that she was closer she should get a better look at them. Steve still had blood on his face from a large cut on his cheek, a split lip, and another on the side by his hairline. James looked a little better since Steve had started cleaning him up, but there was a giant gash on his forehead and smaller cuts littering his skin, as well as an ugly, purplish bruise blossoming over his temple and dried blood caked in his hair and beard. His eyes were glazed over and out of focus. And his arm…was _gone_.

“What the hell happened?” Natasha breathed. Steve went back to wiping off James’ face, avoiding her gaze.

“Stark,” Steve replied shortly. Natasha’s eyes fell on James’ mangled shoulder. The metal was torn roughly and wires hung uselessly from under it.

“_Tony_ did this?”

“He knows,” Steve mumbled lowly, swallowing thickly and avoiding her gaze. “About his parents.”

Natasha let out a long breath, guilt bubbling up in the pit if her stomach. She’d found out a few months ago that James had murdered Howard and Maria Stark in the early nineties. They were looking for leads on Rumlow and she’d been attempting to piece back together some old SHIELD files that had gotten corrupted when Ultron took down Jarvis. She’d told Steve immediately, and although he wanted to tell Tony, they agreed that bringing up his parents’ death would only hurt him. Ultimately they decided to erase the information and keep it to themselves.

Steve’s hands were shaking. Natasha set the bottle of vodka on the counter behind her before reaching out to brush her fingertips against his knuckles, and he froze.

“Let me. There’s a first aid kit under the sink.”

Steve hesitated but after a few seconds he gave in, handing her the damp washcloth and standing up from his chair. Natasha took his seat and got to work, swiping the rag gently across the underside of James’ jaw. She worked in silence for a while, clearing his skin of the dried blood before opening the first aid kit.

“I’m fine,” James said lowly, shifting away from her.

“It needs to be stitched up,” she insisted.

“I’m _fine_, Natalia,” he repeated forcefully. _God_, was he stubborn. But when he glanced over and met the stern look she was giving him, he sighed. “Fine.”

She began closing the wound, slow and precise with her stitches. This was familiar, and a bit bittersweet. It reminded her of the nights many, many years ago when they would hole up in some rundown safe house after a mission, cleaning each other up while they awaited instruction from their handlers. Those long nights allowed them to talk - _really_ talk - without anyone overhearing them. They got to know each other, or at least what they knew about themselves to share. It was where his memories started coming back, where he started to become the James _she_ knew. Where they learned to trust each other.

When she was done he immediately excused himself, ignoring Steve’s protests that he should stay awake for a few hours, insisting he just wanted to go to bed. Natasha glanced over Steve for the first time to find him leaning back against the counter, arms crossed tightly against his chest, staring out of the window above the sink. He’d done a half-assed job of wiping his own face, and there was still a bit of dried blood on his skin. She stood and crossed the room to stand in front of him.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

He didn’t answer, didn’t even look over at her. He just stood there, eyes forward. Natasha reached up and laid a hesitant hand on his arm. She knew he’d felt guilty about not telling Tony about his parents since she told him, and after seeing what that decision had led to, she wished she’d kept it to herself.

But something still wasn’t right. He was _never_ like this with her. Even when they fought, no matter what about, Steve was soft when it came to her. He didn’t tense at her touch and avoid her gaze like he was doing now.

It threw her off, but she didn’t back down. Instead she reached her other hand up to cup the side of his face. “Hey-“

Before she could nudge his jaw to force him to look at her, his arm flew up and he grabbed her wrist to pull it away from him. He finally snapped his eyes to hers, and the coldness in them sent a shiver down her spine.

“He called you Natalia.”

“He w-“

Oh.

_Fuck._

For the first time in her long life, Natasha’s mind drew a complete blank and she couldn’t come up with a response. Her mouth dropped open uselessly, her blood running ice cold in her veins as she desperately tried to come up with something. Steve tilted his head a bit, a crease forming between his brows as his eyes narrowed on her.

“You knew him.”

Natasha blinked hard against the stinging in her eyes. There was no way out, no lie that would get her out of this. She _had_ to tell him. It was the only option.

“Yes.”

It was barely louder than a breath, but the second she said it, he dropped her wrist and pulled away from her. He was silent for several painfully long seconds, his back to her, shoulders shaking with each hard breath he took.

“How long?”

“Steve-“

He spun around, his hand coming down hard on the countertop next to him. The laminate cracked underneath it and Natasha winced, shrinking away from him.

“How long have you known?” The cool, even tone of his voice sent an involuntary shudder through her.

“I don’t think you want me to answer that,” she replied cooly, using every ounce of strength in her to keep her voice from shaking. His stare was hard and unwavering, so she let out a long breath and averted her gaze. “Before I joined SHIELD.”

“And you’ve known the entire time.”

Her eyes flitted up to meet his, the room blurring around the edges. He was practically shaking with anger, his knuckles bright white where his fist still sat on the counter.

“You had a photo of him in your apartment.”

“_When?_” he demanded.

“Right after the Battle of New York.”

Steve barely reacted, but Natasha saw his fists clench even more and his jaw tighten. She’d seen him angry, seen him absolutely _livid_; but it had never, not _once_ been directed at her. It was terrifying; not because of the sheer power he emanated, the strength, the way he was towering over her…but because of the way he was looking at her.

Like he’d never, _ever_ forgive her.

“He’d been dead for _three weeks_. You didn’t think I’d want to know he was alive?”

“I didn’t know you,” she countered weakly. Her voice shook, but no amount of control allowed her to mask it. He ignored her argument and kept going.

“In the span of three weeks I lost my best friend, I _died_, I woke up after almost seventy years in a frozen hell to find out it didn’t change a damn thing, and then fought an army of aliens that almost wiped out the entire city of New York.” He was speaking barely above a whisper, but it sent a shiver up her spine. “You were there. You saw _all_ of it. I didn’t sleep for over a year. The panic attacks, the flashbacks…and you didn’t think, for _one_ second, that it might be a good idea to tell me my best friend had been alive the entire_ fucking _time?”

“I wanted to.” Her voice cracked, and she inhaled sharply, trying to fight it.

“But you didn’t.”

“I knew what he was…I knew what it would do to you if you found out.” She paused, taking a deep breath, before adding softly, “I knew you’d hate me for it.”

“I don’t give a shit about who you were before SHIELD, Nat. You know that.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“The hell it isn’t!” She flinched, taken aback by his suddenly elevated voice, but held her ground.

“I didn’t just _know_ him, Steve. I-“

She stopped abruptly, her heart suddenly pounding hard in her chest. He was glaring at her expectantly. She _knew_ she had to tell him everything, but the idea of doing so was pulling all of the air out of her lungs, causing the room to spin around her.

If she hadn’t already lost him over all of this Accords bullshit…she was definitely going to now.

“Tell me.” She shot him a pleading look, but he didn’t back down. “I want to know.”

“I don’t think you do,” she breathed.

“_Romanoff_.”

Natasha squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to rid them of the tears that were forming in them. It didn’t work, and one of them slid down her cheek.

“Fine.” She swallowed thickly, meeting his gaze again and taking a deep breath. She didn’t even know where to start, just that it was going to end very, _very_ badly. “In the early sixties, the Red Room injected me with a version of the Super Soldier Serum from Hydra. Well, _now_ I know it was Hydra. I was the only one who survived it. But it was too new, and I couldn’t control it. They brought James in to train me.”

For a split second she felt a bit relieved at finally being able to call him by the only name she’d ever known him by, but it was gone the instant she saw the look in Steve’s eyes harden. “He taught me how to control it,” she continued. “Use it properly. We worked together for years. And then we…I…” She paused, sucking in a few shallow breaths that did nothing but make her feel dizzy. “I...fell in love with him.” Steve finally averted his gaze, staring daggers into the floor instead. “Or at least, what two people who didn’t know what love was would define it as.

“But I was stupid. We were supposed to be trailing some politician, but we ran off instead.” She took a few seconds, a few more long, shuddering breaths, the sound of James’ screaming ringing in her ears. “They found us six months later in Chicago. Someone overheard me speaking Russian in public. We were in the middle of the Cold War and…well. It wasn’t something I advertised.”

Natasha finally glanced back up at Steve. He wasn’t looking at her.

“They found us. Dragged us back to Moscow and-” Her voice cracked again. “They fucked up his brain until he forgot who I was, and then fucked it up even more. Made me watch and then beat the shit out of me too. I tried to run again a few years later, but Hydra sent him after me. He almost killed me.”

Steve was quiet for a terrifyingly long time. His breaths were slow and even, but she could practically feel him shaking as he contemplated everything she’d said, everything she’d been fighting to keep from him for four years. She’d naively thought she might feel even the slightest once of relief now that it was finally out in the open, but she couldn’t have been more wrong.

“I deserved to know.” he said finally, voice barely above a whisper. “You should have told me.”

“Like we should have told Stark about his parents?”

She almost regretted the words the second they came out of her mouth, but the way he glared at her when she did changed her mind.

“That’s different.”

“How?” He didn’t answer, so she took a few steps towards him with newfound confidence and irritation. “We agreed not to say anything because we knew how much it would hurt him.”

“Yeah, and look how that turned out,” he snapped.

“You can’t _possibly_ be blaming me for that.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you’d have trusted me enough to handle this before you and Stark tried to arrest us-“

“_Really!?_” Natasha narrowed her eyes at him and he practically shrank away at the glare he received. “I _told_ you to stay out of it!”

“And if I had, _you_ would have let them kill him.”

Natasha let out a frustrated sigh. “You broke the _law, _Steve! What the hell did you think was going to happen?”

“That you’d have my fucking back!” She could only gape at him, taken aback by his sudden outburst and the fresh wave of overwhelming guilt that suddenly flooded through her. “I _begged_ you not to make me choose between the two of you. And you still took Stark’s side without even considering-“

“_Bozhe moy, ty bol' v zadnitse!” _He just glared at her angrily, but his Russian wasn’t good enough translate what she’d said. “I didn’t take a _side!_ You can’t blame me for looking out for myself. I thought I was doing the right thing, just like you did.”

“Yeah? And how do you feel about it now?”

“Fuck you, Rogers.” She was shaking now, the overwhelming guilt and anger and exhaustion bubbling up all at once. “You have _no idea_ how hard it was to keep all of that from you for so long. For knowing your trust in me was built on a fucking _lie_, and that it would _destroy_ you when you found out. You don’t know what it’s like to live with the fact that the most important person in the _world_ to you didn’t make it out of that hell we were in because of _me._” She paused to catch her breath, blinking furiously at the tears filling her eyes. That only caused them to fall faster. “And if you want to punch something, go find a tree instead of taking it out on my fucking kitchen.”

With that, Natasha spun away from him and stormed out of the room. She heard him call her name but ignored him, retreating down the hall and into the tiny bedroom at the end of it, slamming the door behind her.

She expected him to come after her, but he didn’t. Instead she heard the back door bang open and closed, throwing the house into silence. It wasn’t until she’d taken off her boots, jeans, and jacket, crawled into the tiny twin bed, and buried her face into the pillow that she let out a muffled sob.

She knew this day would come, when the lie of omission that she’d built up for four years would come crashing down on top of her...but no amount of preparation for the inevitable explosion had readied her for it. Telling him two years ago when James showed up would have been bad enough, but now? 

She’d already betrayed him once today, had already sided with Tony whether she insisted she wasn’t taking sides or not. She’d already gotten their friends - their _family_ \- arrested. She’d already helped this entire Accords situation become what it was, had already broken his trust. Already torn down everything they’d built the last several years in just a matter of hours. It was already going to be difficult to come back from that, to get back to the place they’d been only a week ago…now she was sure they never could.

A knock on the door startled Natasha and she sucked in a few shallow breaths in an attempt to calm herself down. She hadn’t heard Steve come back in, but she was too distracted that she probably wouldn’t have noticed if he did…and she refused to let him hear her cry.

“_Eto ya. Mogu li ya voyti?_”

Natasha sat up and stared across the dark room at the door for a few seconds, her brain muddled and impossibly slow.

“_Da_.”

James cracked the door open and peeked in first, then quickly slipped into the room and shut it behind him. He crossed the room but didn’t sit down, instead staring at the floor uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled lowly, shaking his head. “My head’s not…I’m…a little out of it.”

“I was gonna have to tell him eventually,” she replied with a sigh, her voice weak. “You can sit if you want.” James' jaw tightened but he nodded, perching himself on the edge of the mattress. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay. Arm hurts. Head hurts.” He shrugged his good shoulder defeatedly. “I’ve had worse.”

“Can I see?” James glanced up, hesitating before he turned towards her. She moved across the bed to sit in front of him, then reached out and gently slid her fingers across what remained of his metal arm. “Can it be reattached?”

“Don’t have it. Probably disintegrated.”

Natasha dropped her hand and stood, crossing the room to the storage cabinet where she had a box of extra medical supplies. She brought it over to the bed, then pulled out a roll of gauze and some medical tape.

“I don’t know if this will help the pain, but it might be easier to sleep on,” she admitted, but still he twisted enough to give her better access. She ripped off a piece of the gauze and placed it gently over the jagged edge of his shoulder. He flinched a bit when it covered the broken area and touched a few of the artificial nerves, but was otherwise still.

“He’ll get over it,” he said after a long stretch of silence. Natasha paused briefly, but said nothing. “Once this blows over.”

“How much did you hear?” His silence answered her question. “He has good reason to be upset.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I could have told him too. If I hadn’t run away like a fucking coward.”

“You’re not a coward.” James shot her a doubtful look. “He never gave up on you, you know. They searched for months, even after they came home.”

“I know.”

“How much do you remember?”

“Bits and pieces.” He frowned down at the bed, fiddling with a crease in the blanket. “I remember him. Mostly from before the army. And you, but not much. Timelines are all screwed up.”

“It gets better. It took me a while, and I wasn’t nearly as bad. Clint helped me a lot.”

“The archer?”

“Yeah.” She stilled her hands for a second. “He was supposed to kill me. He saved my life.”

“Can they still…if they wanted to…” He trailed off, but she understood what he meant.

“No. I used to make Clint lock us in a room and say the words for hours on end until I broke out of it.”

She started taping the second layer down to begin a third, and James was silent until she finished. It surprised her how comfortable she was with him, even after as many years as it had been. When she was done she she dropped the supplies back in the box and inspected her work, running her fingers across the seams of the tape.

“Does that feel okay?”

“Yeah. _Blagodaryu vas_.”

“_Pozhaluysta_.”

“He loves you.”

Natasha wanted to laugh at his bluntness. Regardless of what was or wasn’t in his head, that had never changed. Instead she lifted her eyes to meet his, her heart suddenly thumping hard against her chest.

“I know,” she replied softly. “I don’t deserve it.”

“I don’t either.” he agreed. He was watching her carefully, his eyes burning into hers with a hard intensity. “I’ve only seen him care about one other woman the same same way he cares about you, and it was his mother. So his bar is set really high.” Natasha averted her gaze, pulling her bottom lip under her teeth and biting down against the wetness pooling in her eyes. “You remind me of her.”

She huffed out a humorless laugh. She may have never known Sarah Rogers, but she knew she'd been an incredible woman and that Steve had absolutely adored her. There was no way in hell she could measure up to that.

“_James_-“

“I mean it,” he insisted. “You’re strong. Loyal. You care even if you don’t show it. And you’ll never give up on him.” He paused, narrowing his eyes at her thoughtfully. “You love him too, don’t you?”

She glanced up at him again, swallowing back the lump in her throat. And then, barely loud enough to be considered a whisper, she said, “Yeah.”

It was the first time she’d ever admitted it out loud. She hadn’t even given Clint the satisfaction whenever he brought it up. And while it sent an overwhelming wave of terror flooding through her, something about the calm, understanding look in James’ eyes made it okay.

“You should tell him.”

“I can’t,” she replied in a small voice, her eyes burning with tears again.

“Why not?”

“He deserves better than me.”

“I don’t think he cares.”

“I know,” she breathed. His stare was too much so she averted her gaze again, focusing on the blanket beneath her instead. “That’s the problem.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, then he sighed. “He’s an idiot.”

Natasha glanced up and met his eyes again, the corner of her lips tugging upwards into a smile…a real one this time.

“Yeah. He is.”

Natasha was gone by the time Steve woke up the next morning. She left a note telling him to stay put and wait for her to contact him, and he didn’t hear from her for two days.

He felt a bit useless in her absence, but it gave the serum time to start working on his injuries. The cuts on his face faded quickly, eventually becoming nothing more than ugly, yellowed bruises that coloring his skin. The internal ones healed a bit slower, but despite how beaten up his body had been after attempting to hold Tony off, he could at least move around a lot better than he had two days ago.

Bucky was barely speaking to him, but uncomfortable silence seemed like a better option than the alternative. It didn’t feel like the right time to bring up the past, and Steve couldn’t bring himself to ask about Natasha. Bucky hadn’t mentioned it, so he let it go. There was too much rattling around in his head anyway, too many emotions that were dangerous to bring to the surface. So he compartmentalized just like Natasha had taught him, instead focusing on coming up with a plan after they figured out where the rest of their team was.

The problem was…he didn’t have one.

They were already fugitives. Natasha hadn’t told him where they took Sam, Wanda, Clint, and Scott, but he assumed they were locked up in some kind of super-max prison. Probably the Raft. He’d never been there, but he’d heard stories. Breaking them out of that place - besides the fact that it was impossible - would only put a bigger target on their heads. But what choice did they have? He couldn’t let them sit in there facing the consequences for his actions.

He also had to figure out what to do with Bucky. T’Challa had followed them to Siberia, which Steve discovered after he’d carried Bucky out of that bunker. He’d had the Sokovian man who’d orchestrated the whole mess in custody, and apologized profusely for his actions.

And then he’d offered them asylum in Wakanda. Apparently his sister was something of a genius, and T’Challa thought she might be able to help, both with Bucky’s mental state and his arm. Steve had been apprehensive at first, until Bucky came to him a few hours after Natasha left and told him it might be a good idea.

Steve had been supportive of the idea, but honestly…he wasn’t so sure. It was absolutely and completely selfish of him, but he wasn’t ready to lose Bucky again so soon. Who would he have left? Sam and Wanda were locked up, and the chances of successfully getting them out of prison were extremely low. Tony would most likely never speak to him again. Thor had been off-world for over a year now and he had no idea when he was coming back. And Natasha…he’d already lost her days ago, and the more time went on the more he realized he’d probably lost her forever.

He didn’t have a life with the Avengers anymore, and the more time he had to think about it, the more dismal his future was beginning to look. He’d dropped his shield, and with it his titles…both as an Avenger and as Captain America.

Natasha had warned him this would happen. He just never imagined it would be like _this_.

It wasn’t that he had regrets. He was so goddamn _tired_ that letting go of the titles, of the public identity that came with being Captain America, was a vibranium-heavy weight off of his shoulders. Ever since he’d agreed to receive the serum he’d had so many expectations and limitations and pressure put on him. It was a constant, never-ending cycle. Despite being a fugitive, he was finally _free_.

What he was slowly starting to realize, however, was that his entire life had been centered around being Captain America for so long that he didn’t know how to live one without it. His life from before the serum was lost forever, and he never had a chance to start a new one after waking up. Even in his down time he was still an Avenger, still surrounded by his teammates. Giving up his shield stripped him of everything. His job. His life. His team, who had become family. It stripped him of his _purpose_.

The only family he had left was Bucky, and if he took T’Challa up on his offer, he would lose him too. He would be completely and utterly alone.

But it would be a terrible thing to talk him out of it. Bucky needed help, beyond the loss of his arm. He still wasn’t himself, and his mind was a jumbled mess that he’d been stumbling blindly through for two years on his own. He’d made progress, sure - Steve still saw flashes of him behind the muddled mess Hydra had made of his mind - but he was struggling. If T’Challa’s sister could fix that for him, if she could give Bucky the opportunity to have his life and his mind back, he had to take it. It didn’t matter what selfish reasons Steve had for not wanting him to do it.

On the second day in Volgograd, Steve was attempting to come up with some kind of meal out of the non-perishables Natasha had stored in her kitchen when he heard a phone ringing across the room. She’d left a burner with her note, and if it was ringing, there was only one person who could be on the other end.

Steve’s heart twisted in his chest at the thought of talking to her again. He was still angry at her and felt overwhelmingly betrayed; and yeah, as much as he hated himself for it, a little bit jealous…especially when he discovered she’d clearly spent enough time with Bucky while he was outside fuming to tend to his mangled shoulder. But the guilt and regret had started setting in the second she’d told him to go fuck himself and stormed away.

The pain that stemmed from uncovering her massive lie still left him with a constant ache in his chest, but he couldn’t deny how much of an asshole he’d been to her. As much as he wanted to use the excuse that he was exhausted and overwhelmed by how things had ended with Tony, none of it mattered. He overreacted, plain and simple.

But the damage was already done. Despite how many things he wanted to say to her - that he _needed_ to say to her - his mind was such a muddled mess that, on top of the fact that he’d been desperately trying to force her out of his mind, he couldn’t put any of them into words no matter how hard he tried.

He thought a slew of _I’m sorry_’s and _I love you_’s was probably a good place to start, but he knew they wouldn’t be nearly enough. Not anymore.

Steve hadn’t realized he’d been staring stupidly at the phone until it fell silent and immediately began ringing again. He dropped the can of unappetizing-looking mixed vegetables on the counter and practically sprinted across the kitchen, not giving himself the chance to overanalyze what to say to her before answering it and lifting it to his ear.

“What could you possibly be doing that would prevent you from answering the phone?” Natasha snapped before he could say a word, her voice harsh and lacking her usual playful sarcasm.

“Sorry,” he muttered lowly. She ignored him.

“Meet me at Rockaway Beach in four hours. Any longer and this won’t work, we have a very small window of time. Got it?”

“Um, yeah.”

She didn’t say another word, and then the line went dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **RUSSIAN TRANSLATIONS:**  
_Dacha_ \- a small cottage in the country, typically used as a second home in Russia  
_Bozhe moy, ty bol' v zadnitse!_ \- Oh my god, you are a pain in the ass!  
_Eto ya. Mogu li ya voyti?_ \- It’s me. Can I come in?  
_Da_ \- yes  
_Blagodaryu vas_ \- Thank you  
_Pozhaluysta_ \- You’re welcome
> 
> uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...............sorry?
> 
> but come on...you had to see that coming, right?? ......._right??????_
> 
> pls don't kill me
> 
> also, all of the russian is from google translate so i apologize for any inaccuracies.


	11. Chapter 11

**NEW YORK, NY**

It was early morning by the time Steve was flying the quinjet over Long Island. The sun was already up and he knew the city in the distance was probably already buzzing with life.

The beach, however, was completely empty at this time on a weekday. When Steve landed the jet - invisible with stealth mode activated - there was no one around to notice the sand fly up underneath it with the exception of Natasha, who was waiting for him on the boardwalk, perched on a bench with a backpack next to her.

By the time he’d stood from the cockpit and opened the ramp at the back of the jet, she’d come down onto the beach and was waiting for him. She hopped up onto the ramp and brushed past him without so much as a glance in his direction.

“You’re late.”

Steve gaped at her, but she wasn’t paying him any attention. She went straight for the alcove, dropping her bag on the floor and pulling open the compartment that held her arsenal of weapons.

“I got here as fast as I could,” he replied irritably.

“Well we don’t have a lot of time, so listen carefully because there’s no room for mistakes. James, you stay on the jet.” Steve’s jaw tightened at the use of his name, but if Natasha noticed, she didn’t make it obvious, turning her attention to Bucky instead. “If this backfires, get the hell out of there before they close the overhead doors. T’Challa is expecting you, so head straight there.”

Bucky nodded, shooting an uncertain glance over at Steve before dropping his gaze to the floor. Natasha turned away from him but avoided Steve, focusing on securing a pair of bracelets under the cuffs of her jacket instead, apparently having no intention of explaining _his_ part of the plan.

“What do I do?” he asked, frustrated but attempting to keep his voice even. She let out a small huff.

“You follow my orders.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “_Natasha-_“

“Help me clear out the landing pad. Then I’ll head to the control room while you find them. I’ll unlock the gates, we meet back at the jet.”

“Okay,” Steve replied, but she ignored him, going back to her bracelets. “How are we getting in?”

“They think we’re Stark,” she said, probably a bit harsher than necessary. She still wasn’t looking at him, and once she pulled her sleeves down over her bracelets she brushed past him to take a seat at the cockpit, tapping a few buttons on the control panel to ready the jet for flight. “We’ll only have about ten or fifteen minutes before they realize what’s happening and shut the place down. If we don’t get out of there by the time it goes back under, we’re fucked.”

With that Natasha lifted them up off of the beach, and Steve gave up asking questions. He knew she was upset with him - and that she had a reason to be - but she wasn’t the only one who was angry. Besides, she’d decided to leave and refused to speak to him for two days. If they weren’t going to talk about this, she could at least be a little more cooperative.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the jet that made the few minutes they were in the air seem like an eternity. When the water below them parted and the giant building finally emerged from beneath the ocean, the voice that rang out over the intercom was almost deafeningly loud.

“_You’re cleared for landing, Mr. Stark_.”

The doors on the top of the Raft parted and Natasha lowered them down again. When they landed she hopped up and retreated to the back, firing up her bracelets as she prepared to open the ramp. Steve glanced behind him for his shield, but couldn’t find it.

It took a few long seconds before he realized he didn’t have it anymore.

“Ready?” she asked flatly, still avoiding his gaze. Steve glanced over at Bucky instead, who seemed to realize what he’d been looking for and shot him a guilty look before dropping his gaze to the ground.

“Yeah,” he replied, and she hit the button on the side of the jet to lower the ramp.

The guards who waiting for them didn’t realize they weren’t Tony Stark until it was too late. Natasha sprang into action, lunging off of the ramp and taking both of the men down the exact second it registered on their faces what was happening. Once they were both lying on the ground unconscious, she glanced back at Bucky and nodded for him to close the ramp, swiped both of the guards’ key cards, then took off across the landing pad.

“Once we’re through, head straight down the hall, take the elevator to level eight. There’s a separate security room leading into their block that will have four or five guards in it. I’ll open the doors for you.” Steve just nodded in response, desperately trying not to look over at her while she fiddled with the biometric scanner on the door. “Get them out and get back to the jet. Take this.“ She handed him one of the key cards. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Ok-“

Before he could finish the doors slid open. There was one guard on either side of it, and Steve knocked out the one on the left with a swift punch to the face while Natasha stunned the other with her bracelet. Without another word she sprinted away from him and disappeared down a connecting hallway.

Steve followed her directions and found the elevator easily, only meeting a few other guards along the way. He took it down to level eight, and he assumed she must have made it to the master control room because the door to the targeted block of cells slid open just as he approached them.

There were a handful of guards waiting for him, but they all still seemed a bit thrown off by the door suddenly opening. He took advantage of their confusion and already had one of them on the ground before the rest had time to scramble for their weapons. Another guard reached him and Steve ducked his punch before landing one of his own to the guy’s shoulder, which knocked him back into the wall. His head smacked against it and he slid to the ground.

Two more came at him, their tasers glowing. One of them made contact with Steve’s ribs and he winced as it sent a shock through him, but they weren’t set high enough to do much damage. He pushed the guy off of him, smacked his head against the desk, and he dropped to the floor, out cold. Steve grabbed the second guy to shove him away, but used a little too much force. He went flying back into the wall of security screens, cracking a few of them and joining the others on the ground, hitting the desk on his way down.

Once the room was cleared, Steve finally let his eyes lift to screens covering the walls. There were a couple focused on each cell in the block, as well as a few surrounding corridors and the ocean around the Raft. Sam was pacing, Clint was lying motionlessly on his cot, and Scott was sitting in the corner. His concern, however, was Wanda. She was sitting on the floor against the window of her cell, constrained in a straight jacket.

Anger flared up in Steve’s chest, and he resisted the urge to punch the screen. There was no _way_ Wanda would have resisted arrest…she’d known since the moment she decided to go with Clint that there was a possibility of this happening. Restraining her like that was completely unnecessary.

Suddenly all of the the screens flickered, and half of them turned to static. A split second later the door leading into the block slid open. Steve tore his eyes away from the screens and hopped over the unconscious bodies on the floor towards the door. There was a second, seemingly more heavily guarded door directly after the first, but that one slid open for him too.

Steve stepped into the block and began crossing it carefully, but there didn’t seem to be any guards past the security room. He made his way towards the center cell where Sam was still pacing, unaware of what had been going on the other side the two doors. He turned in the direction the window of his cell and stopped dead in his tracks, his lips curving up into a smile when Steve stepped out of the darkness overhead.

“Hey, Cap,” he greeted lowly. Despite the situation, Steve responded with a relieved smile. They definitely weren’t out of this yet, but seeing Sam seemingly perfectly okay still eased his nerves a bit.

“_What!?”_ Scott mused loudly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Clint push himself upright and swing his legs off of the cot.

“You guys wanna get out of here?”

“How the _hell_ did you get in here?” Clint asked, grinning at him from across the block.

“I brought help.” A heavy, metallic _click_ echoed through the block and Sam whirled around as the doors to each of their cells opened at the same time. They were followed by the heavy metal grates between each of them that led to the hall connecting them. “Come on, we gotta hurry.”

“I’ll need help with Wanda,” Clint called, hopping to his feet and disappearing out of the cell. Steve quickly crossed the block and went through one of the open gates, which led him to a small corridor.

When he found Wanda’s cell, Clint was already kneeling beside her, trying to rip off the straight jacket. He wasn’t having any luck - it was secured by a mechanical lock on the back - so Steve dropped to his knees in front of her, grasping her shoulder tightly.

“You okay?” he asked softly. Wanda’s eyes lifted slowly, and his stomach dropped uneasily when she met his gaze. There was an eerie emptiness in her eyes, not even the hint of the red glow he was accustomed to seeing in them. He couldn’t feel her, couldn’t feel an ounce of anxiety or anything like he usually could when she was stressed out. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked, dragging his eyes from hers to find Clint.

“It’s the collar,” he muttered angrily. “She so much as _thinks_ too hard and that fucking thing will shock her.”

A fresh wave of blinding fury washed over Steve as his eyes fell on the device wrapped securely around Wanda’s neck. He wondered if Tony knew this was what they’d done to her, and the thought that he did gave him the urge to walk right up to the compound’s front door and get a few more punches in.

That would have to wait, however. Natasha was likely on her way back to the jet, and they needed to get out of here before anyone else realized they were here.

“I’m gonna rip this off, okay?” he said finally. Wanda’s head gently bobbed up and down, so Steve grabbed a sleeve of the straight jacket, ripped it apart, then did the same to the other. When her arms were free he scooped her up off of the floor, and she buried her head against his shoulder.

“What’s the plan, Cap?” Sam asked from the doorway to Wanda’s cell.

“We have a jet waiting on the landing pad. Follow me.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Clint asked, following Steve back out of the cell and down the hall, though the slight hopefulness in his voice told him he already knew the answer.

“Natasha,” he replied lowly, and Clint chuckled.

“I knew it,” he breathed under his breath. Steve gritted his teeth against the reply at the tip of his tongue. He’d let Natasha tell him what happened.

They were lucky on the way back up to the jet, only running into a few more guards that must have already been in the vicinity, which Sam and Clint took care of easily. There weren’t any alarms going off either, so Steve hoped that meant Natasha had successfully manipulated their systems to avoid possible reinforcements. The landing bay was still empty too, and Bucky was ready for them with the ramp down. Steve hurried up into the jet to set Wanda down on the floor, and Sam immediately took the cockpit.

“What the hell did they do to her?”

Steve glanced upwards to see Natasha, already back and staring down at Wanda with a horrified look on her face.

“Can you get that thing off?” Clint asked her, and her hands curled into tight fists, but she nodded.

“I think so. Sam, get us in the air.”

Sam, already one step ahead of her, closed the ramp and they lifted upwards, the jet wobbling a bit at the rough liftoff. Natasha fell to her knees besides Steve and he immediately scrambled back to give her space. Clint shot him a look, but he ignored him in favor of crossing the jet towards the cockpit.

“Where are we going?” Sam asked when he approached, his fingers flying across the control panel.

“Wakanda. The coordinates are already loaded.” Sam shot him an uncertain glance. “It’s safe. I promise.”

“If you say so,” Sam muttered.

“Make a stop in Central Park first,” Natasha called from the floor.

Steve spun towards her, but she was avoiding his gaze, focusing intently on the controls of Wanda’s collar.

“_What!?_”

Her jaw tightened but she didn’t bother meeting his gaze. “It’s early, there will be no one there,” she replied, as if that was an explanation.

“It’s the middle of the city!” Steve shot back irritably. “If you wanna run away again, _fine_, but we need to get as far-“

“Drop us in the _park_, Sam,” she interrupted, raising her voice. “Clint and I will disappear into the city. We’ll be fine.”

Clint glanced over at her incredulously. “Uh, do I get a say in th-“

“No,” she snapped, cutting him off with a glare. He just let out an irritated huff and shook his head.

“Cap?” Sam asked lowly, glancing over and meeting Steve’s gaze uncertainly. Steve just sighed.

“Just…do whatever she says,” he muttered back.

Sam opened his mouth to argue, but a low pulse of electricity through the jet and Wanda let out a strangled cry. Steve whipped around again, his heart tightening at the sound of it, but quickly realized it was because the collar had fallen off and was now in Natasha’s hand. She tossed it aside and reached out, placing a hand on each side of Wanda’s face and guiding her gaze to look at her.

“Hey, hey…you’re alright.” Wanda’s eyes glowed red, and Steve couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice shaking, and Natasha offered her a soft smile in return.

“Landing now,” Sam called. Natasha dropped her hands to squeeze Wanda’s lightly in her own before pushing herself up from the floor.

“I managed to grab the wings and Lang’s suit, they’re in the alcove,” she said, back to business mode as if she’d never slipped. She brushed past a clearly distressed Clint and reached down to sling a backpack over her shoulder. “Don’t make any stops, go straight to Wakanda. T’Challa knows you’re coming.”

With that she reached out and smacked the button to activate the ramp. It fell open, letting in a burst of cool morning air.

“Nat, are you sure-“

“Yes,” she said, cutting Clint off again. She approached the ramp, glaring at him to encourage him to follow her. He sighed, but reluctantly approached the ramp as well, grabbing hold of the wall to keep himself steady while they dropped to the ground.

Finally Natasha glanced back, and as though pulled together by a magnet, her eyes fell right on Steve’s.

Regret bubbled in the pit of his stomach, and before his brain caught up with him, he was taking a few steps towards the back of the jet. He couldn’t just let her _leave. _They were _fugitives_, they had multiple countries out looking for them. Stark had an excessive amount of digital sources, theres no way they’d be able to hide from them for long. Wakanda was the safest place for them - for _all_ of them - at least for now until this all blew over.

Besides…he couldn’t let her go the way things were between them. They would have no way of contact, he would have no way to find her. Hell, he may never see her again if he didn’t say something.

The regret began fading into panic. He was still angry, he was still hurt and betrayed…but he couldn’t let her go. Not now, not like this.

Time was running out. Sam landed the jet roughly in the middle of the park, but Natasha had already spun around and hopped off of the ramp before it hit the ground, closely followed by Clint.

“Nat, wait-“

“We don’t have _time_, Rogers!” She spun around to glare at him, but the harshness in her eyes from earlier was gone. It had been replaced with the same desperation he felt churning angrily in his chest, and her eyes bore into his, wide and unblinking.

“Steve, we have to go!” Sam called from the cockpit. But he couldn’t move, and didn’t make an effort to close the ramp or give Sam the signal to lift up again. He was frozen to the spot, his boots planted against the floor of the jet as his mind scrambled to form the right words.

“Steve,” she said softly, her voice barely above a breath but still loud enough for him to hear over the jet’s engine. “_Go_.”

Sam, not receiving a confirmation whether he could go or not, made a decision and the jet jolted upright. Natasha shot him one last look - one that was uncharacteristically filled with so many different emotions that he couldn’t for the life of him determine which ones they were - before the ramp started lifting and she was out of sight.

**CHICAGO, IL**

Nothing ever felt better after a hard mission than half a bottle of vodka and a steaming hot shower. At least, not in Natasha’s opinion, especially when she hadn’t had access to either of those things in several days.

Clint hadn’t tried to bother her since she’d dragged him off of the quinjet, which she was perfectly fine with. Once they’d stolen an inconspicuous car and gotten out of the city he’d immediately passed out in the passengers seat, allowing her to begin their drive across the country in silence, rather than dodging the endless stream of questions he no doubt had for her. He woke up several hours later, which was when she recommended they stop for the night so he could call Laura and they could figure out their next move.

The second she and Clint had gotten themselves into their tiny motel room just outside of Chicago - the place was kind of sketchy but they took cash and didn’t have any kind of advanced security system - e’d shot her a _look_, one that she just _knew_ would be followed by an accusatory ‘_What the hell is wrong with you_.’ She’d sit in the bathroom with the water running all night if she had to, just to avoid that conversation. So she’d dumped her bag on the bed, retrieved a few items from it, and locked herself in the bathroom.

She’d showered right away, desperate to scrub herself clean of the last few days. But instead of getting dressed and letting Clint have the bathroom afterwards she’d sat herself on the floor wrapped in one of the motel’s giant towels to finish off the bottle of vodka she’d brought into the room with her, cursing herself with each sip knowing she didn’t have anymore. It wasn’t having nearly the effect she wished it would, but at the very least it numbed her mind a little.

Finally, once the bottle was gone and she’d started to get uncomfortable, she pushed herself onto her feet, dressed in her leggings and an oversized baseball t-shirt that used to be Clint’s, she finally emerged from the bathroom, her hair already halfway dry and curling at the ends. Clint glanced over at her and frowned.

“I thought you drowned.”

“Unfortunately, you’re stuck with me,” she replied drily.“Your turn.”

Natasha tossed the empty bottle into the trash and dropped the towel on the floor, then reached for her bag. The first thing she pulled out was Steve’s sweater, the one she’d stolen from his room. She swallowed hard against the burning in the back of her throat and pulled it on - it was warm and smelled like him - before collapsing onto the bed next to Clint and leaning back against the headboard.

“Are you gonna pretend to be asleep when I come back in here?”

“Yes.” She averted her gaze and stared at the television instead of giving him the satisfaction of looking at him. It was some sitcom she’d never bothered to watch, and she was pleased to note that the screen was slightly out of focus, meaning the alcohol was finally beginning to do its job.

“So we’re just..not going to talk about-“

“No,” she interrupted, and he let out an irritated huff. “I don’t know what you think there is to talk about. I think it’s clear what happened.”

“What’s clear is that you let Rogers and Barnes go, broke us out of prison, and let yourself become a fugitive, so you _obviously_ switched sides-“

“I never picked a _side_,” she grumbled lowly, but Clint ignored her.

“What _isn’t_ clear is why you just let Rogers-“

“Drop it, Barton,” she snapped. “Go take a shower, you smell like a criminal.”

“Not until you tell me what happened.”

“I said, _drop it_.“

“Fine,” he breathed finally, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back against the bed. They were silent for a few long minutes, Natasha watching the screen blankly but not actually comprehending what she was watching. “Actually, I’m not gonna drop it.”

“Clint,” she warned, but he’d already made up his mind.

“We _should_ have gone with them, regardless of how pissed you are at each other over-“

“Clint, _stop_.” She’d felt the panic rising in her chest, and she took a few deep breaths to push it back down. “Please. I don’t wanna talk about this right now.”

“You know, you always do this,” he said after a few seconds, his voice softening. “And whether you admit it or not, talking things out always makes you feel better.”

She _wouldn’t_ admit it, but he did have a point. He’d taught her years ago that keeping everything bottled up inside of her was going to drive her crazy, and he was the first person she’d ever allowed herself to open up to like that. Talking to him, no matter what it was about, did always make her feel at least a little bit better.

“Tasha.” She finally dragged her eyes away from the television to meet his concerned gaze. “What happened?”

“He knows about James.”

It came out low, barely more than a breath, but Clint still heard her and his eyes widened a bit.

“Oh.” He let out a long breath and Natasha averted her gaze again. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” 

“_Shit_,” he said again, then paused. “But, I mean...he’ll get over it.”

Natasha huffed out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I doubt it.”

“Nat, come on-“

“I _lied_ to him, Clint. He shouldn’t get over it.”

“No, he probably shouldn’t, but he will.” Natasha just rolled her eyes. “He loves y-“

“Don’t say that.” Her eyes snapped back to his in a warning glare.

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“It _shouldn’t_ be,” she insisted. “_Everything_ we ever had was built on a lie.”

“You know he doesn’t give a shit.” Natasha glared at him again. “Look, you weren’t there, okay? You didn’t see what this whole thing did to him.”

Natasha swallowed thickly, guilt bubbling up in her stomach. She didn’t want to think about that, about how she _wasn’t_ there. She wasn’t fighting by his side like she should have been, she hadn’t given him the chance to explain it all to her. She’d let her own frustration and impatience make her decision for her, let her emotions push her forward instead of logic.

She was a goddamn _spy_. The best in the world. She didn’t _let_ her emotions make decisions for her, _ever_.

It didn’t matter if that’s what she thought she was avoiding. If she’d thought that, by attempting to stay neutral, she was letting her brain lead her and not her heart, not her unwavering loyalty to Steve that could sway her opinions on any given situation much easier than she’d ever admit.

“What’s your point?” she asked finally, her voice lacking the harshness she’d made an attempt at.

“My _point_ is that he didn’t want any of this, and he didn’t want to fight you over it. But he didn’t know what else to do.” Natasha remained silent, unable to come up with an argument. “I don’t know what happened after he and Barnes left, but I could already tell he wasn’t handling this all that well the second I met up with him in Leipzig.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?” Natasha mumbled, and Clint chuckled.

“I’m always on your side. But this isn’t about sides, remember?”

She wanted to smack him, but she didn’t have the energy. Instead she let herself lean into him, her head falling to his shoulder. They sat like that for a while, and she closed her eyes, welcoming the fuzziness in her brain from the vodka she’d consumed in the bathroom.

“I was…happy, you know,” she whispered finally, speaking the words before her brain had time to think them over. This was still so foreign to her, and the thought of saying the things that had been running through her mind for so long out loud was incredibly uncomfortable, even if it was to Clint. “For a while. And I...I started to think...maybe I did deserve it. To be happy. That maybe we could...” She trailed off and shook her head, unable to voice the fantasy that had been lurking in the back of her mind for so long. “But a part of me could never actually believe it. This is just what I needed to prove that I was right.”

“You still deserve to be happy, Nat.” Clint reached his hand over to slide his fingers between hers.

“Doesn’t really matter now, does it?” She sighed, blinking away the wetness in her eyes she refused to let Clint see, and continued before he could argue. “We’ll stay here tonight and get going early. We should be there early afternoon.”

“Um…about that.”

Natasha sat upright to shoot him a look, and he winced. “What?”

“When we were in the raft…the CIA…they offered us a deal.”

“Clint,” she warned, but he averted his gaze and kept going.

“They said if we agreed to sign, they would lower our sentence to a year of house arrest.”

“_Clint-_“

“I could go home, Nat.”

“You _are_ going home!” Clint just sighed and shot her a pleading look, but it didn’t do a thing to calm her suddenly increasing heart rate. “Clint, if you turn yourself in-“

“If I don’t, I’m dragging Laura and the kids into this with me,” he cut in. “I don’t _want_ to sign it…but I can’t subject them to a life in hiding.”

Natasha didn’t have an argument for that. He was right, of _course_ he was. But if he turned himself in…if he was on house arrest…

Where would she go?

She couldn’t go with him. In fact, she wouldn’t even be able to have contact with him. It was too risky. If he was caught communicating with her, it would get Laura and the kids involved, and it could get him thrown into prison again. She was a much bigger prize than Clint was; there were many governments who would _love_ to say they had the Black Widow in custody, and she risked deportation at the very least. There was no way in hell she’d get offered the same deal.

She couldn’t even take him the rest of the way to the safe house. If she did, the kids would have to lie about seeing her. Both Laura and Clint could get accused of harboring a fugitive. She would have to leave before he turned herself in. A clean break was the safest way for him to do this. He had to have no idea where she was.

“You’ll figure something out, Tash,” he said finally, as if he could read her mind. “Maybe you’re right, maybe this will blow over soon. But it might not.”

Natasha took a deep breath and smoothed out her expression before turning back to him.

“I know.” Clint opened his mouth to speak again, but she cut him off. “You should go shower, I’m gonna get some sleep.”

He let his eyes linger on hers for a few long seconds before he spoke again. “You’re going to leave, aren’t you?”

Natasha swallowed thickly, fighting hard against the burn in the back of her throat.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” she repeated, her voice tight. “And in the morning, I’ll take you home.”

“Okay.” He pushed himself upright, but paused before swinging his legs off of the bed. Instead he grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest. “I love you,” he mumbled against her hair. “Be careful.”

“You too,” she whispered against him, clinging tight to his jacket. He didn’t make a move to pull away just yet, holding on to her for another minute. Natasha allowed herself break down, just a little. Just once. Just in the presence of her best friend, who she knew deep down - despite her insistence that this would blow over quickly - she probably wouldn’t see for a very long time after she walked out of the door.

“Can you promise me something?” Clint said, once he finally pulled away. Natasha glanced up and met his concerned gaze. “Go find Steve. Don’t do this on your own.”

“Worry about your own kids, Barton,” she muttered under her breath. He rolled his eyes and the corner of her mouth curved upwards despite the tears she was desperately trying to hold back.

**WAKANDA**

“You sure about this?”

Bucky let his gaze linger on Steve’s briefly before it fell to the cryo chamber across the room, and let out a long breath.

“I can’t trust my own mind.” He huffed out a humorless laugh, and his lips curved up into a smile that didn’t meet his eyes as he met Steve’s gaze again. “So until they figure out how to get this shit out of my head, I think goin’ back under’s the best thing. For everybody.”

Steve sighed, but nodded. He still had his own selfish reservations - no amount of time had helped him push them aside - but this was Bucky’s choice and he had to be okay with it.

“Okay,” he said, his jaw tightening as he pushed back his emotions, pushed back the overwhelming sense of abandonment that had been plaguing him for days. “Look, Buck…I just…I want you to know…I don’t blame you. For any of this.”

“You should.” Steve opened his mouth to argue, but Bucky silenced him with a regretful gaze. “I told her not to tell you.”

Steve swallowed thickly, dropping his gaze to the floor. “That’s…not what I-“

“Yes it is.”

“You’d only been dead for three weeks, Buck,” he said softly, lifting his eyes to meet Bucky’s again. “I crashed that plane thinking I’d wake up to see you and my mom again. But I didn’t.” Bucky shifted uncomfortably, but he didn’t avert his gaze. “I was alone…and lost, and confused. But if I’d known…if she’d have told me-“

“You wouldn’t have found me,” Bucky cut in lowly. “And if you had, I probably would have killed you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.” Steve couldn’t come up with a reply to that, so he stayed silent. “She loves you, you know.”

Steve huffed out a humorless laugh. “Even if that was true she’d never admit it.”

“She does.” Bucky paused. “And she did.”

Steve frowned at him, his heart suddenly thudding wildly in his chest. “What?”

“As long as I’ve known you, you’ve fought for everyone but yourself. You prioritize others over yourself, every single time.” Bucky’s eyes flitted up to meet Steve’s again. “But you spend so much time fighting for everyone else that you forget to fight for yourself.”

“Buck-“

“Fight for _her_, Stevie. Don’t let her get away, because if you do, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.”

“It’s not that simple,” Steve muttered, but Bucky shook his head.

“Then _make_ it that simple, you idiot.”

Steve huffed out a laugh, and Bucky offered him a soft smile in return.

“The chamber is calibrated and we are-“ Shuri stopped dead in her tracks the second she’d suddenly breezed into the lab, her eyes widening. “Sorry! Sorry. You’re having a moment. Excuse me.”

She threw her hands up into the air and backed out of the room, and Steve chuckled. T’Challa’s sister had more energy than he’s ever had in his _life_, and the second they’d arrived in her lab she’d been talking a mile a minute about the process she was going to take to piece Bucky’s brain back together and her plans for a new, vibranium-enhanced prosthetic arm that she’d already begun work on. Steve had barely understood a word of what she’d said.

“I suppose we should get this over with.” Bucky shuddered a bit. “I hate these things.”

“It’ll be worth it, though,” Steve insisted encouragingly. “And I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I know.” Bucky pushed himself gingerly off of the examination table he’d been sitting on, wincing when he stretched himself up to his full height. “Can’t wait until I remember the rest of the dumb shit you used to do,” he added, muttering under his breath. Steve just rolled his eyes.

Shuri, having seen Bucky cross the room to the cryo chamber, hurried back into the room and immediately started tapping the controls on the side of it. She explained the process to them: they’d put him under, let him cool down completely for a few days, and then she’d get to work piecing through his brain for damaged areas. Then they’d heal those areas, all of the brain tissue that had been destroyed under the horrific torture Hydra had subjected him to, and see how he reacted. She was very excited about it.

Steve helped Bucky into the chamber, and he adjusted himself until he seemed more comfortable.

“You’ll likely fall asleep very quickly, but rest assured we will be monitoring your vitals throughout the entire process so your brain activity slows naturally,” Shuri explained, her fingers flying across the holographic control panel. Bucky just swallowed thickly and nodded, letting his eyes fall on Steve’s.

“Don’t do anything stupid until I wake up,” he muttered, and although Steve smiled, his heart still ached at the anxious uncertainty in his voice.

“How can I? You’re takin’ all the stupid with you,” he replied lowly. Shuri glanced between them, a bewildered look in her eyes.

“Ah…right then. Are you ready, Sergeant Barnes?”

Bucky shot Steve once last glance before staring straight ahead of him and nodding. A few of Shuri’s lab techs got to work strapping him into the chamber, and Steve stepped back to let them work. Finally the glass door slid up, locking him into the airtight chamber. Bucky closed his eyes just as a blast of cold air shot through it, sending little crystals of frost over the inside of the glass.

“All of his vitals are perfect, brain activity normal,” Shuri called to her team, but Steve had a suspicion they all knew that already, and she’d said it out loud for his benefit. “Captain,” she added, lowering her voice. Steve tore his eyes away from the chamber and met her gaze. “Please know that, although he will be asleep…you are welcome to visit _whenever_ you would like.”

“Thanks,” he replied, offering her a soft smile. “For all of this. What you’re doing for him-“

“Please. This is an incredible opportunity,” she interrupted with a bright grin. “Besides, my brother _did_ try to kill him on multiple occasions. It is the _least_ I can do.”

She’d phrased the joke so casually that it almost flew over Steve’s head, and he chuckled. Shuri reminded him a bit of Natasha, dangerously intelligent with a sense of humor so dry and witty that it was easy to become a victim of if you weren’t fast enough. He thought they’d get along, but immediately decided that would be incredibly dangerous for anyone else in the room with them.

He wondered if she gave T’Challa as much hell for being so serious all the time as Natasha gave him.

Steve stuck around for a while, watching Shuri work and trying to keep up with her explanations of what she was doing. Eventually, once it became too much and started giving him a headache - and when he couldn’t bear to watch Bucky’s internal temperature drop any lower - he excused himself to a lounge outside of the lab. It was quiet there, and it gave him an opportunity to clear his head a bit.

Well, _attempt_ to clear his head, at least. It wasn’t working very well, swirling with a storm of emotions he wasn’t ready to deal with yet, the panic and regret and loneliness all turning into one massive ball of anxiety building right in the center of his chest.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there, staring out of the giant wall of windows into the foggy landscape of Wakanda, but he eventually heard movement behind him. The footsteps were soft, but were clearly being made by someone purposely making sound so as not to sneak up on him.

Natasha did that.

T’Challa caught Steve’s eye when he came to a stop next to him, and bowed his head slightly in greeting before he gazed out of the window as well.

“Thank you for this,” Steve said after a few long seconds of silence.

“Your friend and my father…they were both victims. If I can help one of them find peace…”

“You know if they find out he’s here…” Steve glanced over at him. “They’ll come for him.”

The corner of T’Challa’s lips curved upwards, and he averted his gaze to stare out of the window.

“Let them try,” he replied lowly. “I assume you will not be staying?”

Steve let out a long breath, guilt flooding over him for the millionth time in the last few days.

“Thank you, but…I can’t. I don’t want to impose.”

“You are doing no such thing, Captain. You are my invited guests, and you are welcome to stay as long as you need.” He paused, keeping his eyes focused beyond the window. “Though I do understand your desire to leave. Please know that you are welcome back, without invitation, whenever you like, for safety or otherwise.”

“Thank you,” Steve said again.

“That being said…I will confide in you that there are some…_outside_ matters of which Wakanda is well aware of, that we unfortunately have no jurisdiction over.”

Steve shot a curious look over at the king, who was purposefully avoiding his gaze. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is I have some information that might interest you. So whenever you are ready to get back to work…” T’Challa finally looked up at him again. “Let me know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yea, i know it's been two weeks. this chapter hated me. sorry 🙈
> 
> thank you _so much_ for reading!! i know i say it excessively but all of the kudos and comments and tumblr messages make me so so so happy and encourage me to post chapters way too quickly (which is what happened with this fic....oops). and i know everything seems bad now......but don't worry. there's still two more parts to this series ;)
> 
> keep an eye out for part four, Disassembled, which i'm hoping should be up sometime in the next few weeks!
> 
> thanks again, you're all wonderful <3
> 
> UPDATE: DECEMBER 2019  
Hello new readers!! I just wanted to let you know that the series is currently on a little bit of a hiatus until Black Widow comes out. i've been struggling to get the first two chapters of part 4 right, and after seeing the trailer for bw i realized it was because i was missing so much of natasha's story that's going to be important for the next half of the series. 
> 
> so, the plan now is that i'm going to take the next five months to finish writing the rest of the series (infinity war and endgame) and once black widow comes out i'll get that written and start posting again. the good news is that i'll be able to post them in much larger chunks at a time. i've also started working on the prequel to this series (covering avengers), which i'll eventually post in the meantime before bw comes out.
> 
> thanks for your patience, i promise it'll be worth it!! <3


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